


Russian Roulette

by Anonymous



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Brainwashing, Canon Divergence, Consent Issues, Dehumanization, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, WinterFalcon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-11 00:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7014244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky just wants to be left alone, Sam won't let him. Bucky kinda likes it. And Steve cries a lot. And Tony just wants Steve to wear the suit to bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> first story for the Avengers fandom, hope you like it. and if ya do, leave me love in the comments, and if you don't, leave me some constructive criticism. Thanks!

It's more than unexpected but Bucky comes to them. 

There he stood lingering near the open window leading out to the fire escape of Steve's apartment. He's dressed in a tattered brown leather jacket layered over a stained gray hoodie. His jeans are also stained and threadbare, seeming to have not been washed for days. His handsome face is taken over by a full beard and his dark hair hangs in tangled greasy locks under a frayed baseball cap. 

He's staring at Steve and Sam with wide haunted eyes. The dark circles under them showed off his weariness. He looked gaunt and starved and his body was trembling with fear. Steve doesn't miss the outline of a gun's shaft tucked into Bucky's palm hidden in his jacket pocket. His metal hand is hanging free with a glove covering the shine of it. 

Bucky must look odd to other people in the street when he's dressed so warmly in the sweltering heat of summer in New York. But Steve also knows that Bucky is good at hiding, with him and Sam finding no leading trace of him since the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Steve doesn’t move and neither does Sam. They don't want to spook him. From their distance in the kitchen and Bucky by the window showcasing the living room, he could leave fast enough where they won't be able to catch him and then he would be lost for another two years or more. Steve certainly wasn’t going to take that chance and Sam knew the risks of letting Bucky go.

“Buck,” Steve said quietly, slowly raising his hands in surrender, trying to show that the man wasn’t in any danger from him, unsurprisingly Sam did the same.

Bucky flinched at the name at first but his shoulders fell as the anxiety and tension waned seeing their open palms. He remained alert as his eyes traveled up and down slowly, checking for weapons. The men are unarmed. 

With much caution, he side stepped around them in a half circle putting as much distance as he could between them, as much as Steve's modest apartment would allow him. Never turning his back on them, he gets to the fridge, opening it just enough to slip his covered metal hand inside and grabbed the first thing he touched on the top shelf. 

Watching Bucky pull something out, Steve recognized it as Sam's mother's leftover meatloaf. A meal he and Sam shared and finished off with some beer and light-hearted conversation, before they felt a rush of fresh air come from a window Steve knew wasn’t opened before. And there Bucky was, looking lost and afraid, but he still came home. To _him_.

Steve and Sam watched in silence as Bucky tore open the foil wrapping of the meatloaf with his teeth, spitting the sheared slip of foil to the tiled floor of the kitchen. He tore into the meat with as much ferocity of a starving animal. Steve and Sam both watched in some mix of horror and fascination as Bucky devoured the meatloaf, barely chewing it. 

Steve is nearly broken by the sight. 

His friend...his Bucky out in the world starving and alone, too afraid to ask for help. Not being able to trust anyone. And having not been in sole control of himself for so long that free will was too new to him, too scary. But maybe something broke through. More memories maybe? Steve didn't know. He just wanted to help Bucky in any way he could. He turned his head to Sam ever so slowly and Sam gave him a slight nod. Sam was definitely on board with him then.

Bucky began licking the juices off the crinkling wrapping, mere seconds later, a muffled rumble emitted from his stomach that was only audible from the complete silence that came from Sam and Steve. And suddenly, Bucky lurched forward violently with the crumpled foil falling to the floor. Bucky made a wretched noise, vomiting everything he ate just seconds before.

The smell was awful but the sight was even worse. Steve stepped forward just a little bit but that was clearly a mistake because Bucky was instantly prone and the gun was out of his pocket and pointed directly at Steve's head. No one dared to breathe. 

The pit of Steve's stomach dropped, quickly taken back to the time Bucky used a gun against him. And from this distance the man couldn't miss. And just as quick, Sam was in front of Steve, his palms still raised. “S-Sam, don't--,”Steve began, but Sam only shushed him. Bucky stared at them with wide eyes, then at his own hand wielding the gun like it doesn't belong to him.

Self preservation is what Bucky tried to take command of for himself but with his orders only coming from HYDRA, when to eat, when to sleep, when to shit, it still confused him. He wasn't better off on his own. He couldn't navigate this new world without someone else being the compass. 

' _Go to them_ ,' came a voice in his head. And whatever it was, whomever it belonged to, Bucky knew this was where he needed to be. But something still didn't feel right. He felt like he didn't really know these men. So why was he here? But he found himself there on the fire escape regardless, watching the two men inside for an hour enjoying themselves, eating and drinking. Yet, still not sure if he was standing there of his own volition, or if his strings were continuing to be pulled--more of a leash, if anything.

He isn't sure if he wasn't with HYDRA right now. He felt like someone was watching him. But HYDRA was exposed, his former handlers either on the run or in hiding, or hopefully dead. 

And now, standing in front of them with at gun between them and pool of vomit at their feet, Bucky felt a kindling of shame. He knew he should recognize the two men but his memories were hazy, like trying navigate a car through heavy fog. He just couldn't. He doesn't even believe his name _is_ Bucky

He tried to get the voice to tell him what to do now. He didn't know what to do, but he knew he could stand here for hours in this pose, not letting the men out of his sight. Forgo every bodily need if he had to. He didn't want to do that, but who was he to even begin to think about wanting not to do things.

But then there was the other man, who had stepped in front of the gun like he had to protect Steve. Bucky could see they had no weapons, and their hands were raised. Not a threat to him. At least not now.

“Hey, man, ain't gonna be needing to use that on us.” came the man's voice. “Just put the gun down.” 

Bucky stared for a moment longer, he was losing focus. And something inside him shifted. Something was off. There are words echoing in his head, the spoken Russian was unmistakable, spoken by the voice he heard only moments ago when he first entered the apartment. 

The order was clear. He was being told to do something. He had to do it. Bucky tossed the gun aside without another thought. The other two men watched it land on the living room's plush carpeting with a hard thunk.

Steve and Sam let out a collective breath as soon as Bucky disarmed himself. They put their hands down, letting them hang loosely at their sides. 

Sam was still unsure about Bucky throughout the search for him, but Steve had full confidence in his friend or what he used to be. And Steve was a man who Sam idolized for years as a kid, and just having Cap as a friend was important to him. And anything Steve cared about Sam knew that he would come to care about it too. Most of the time that meant them saving the world but by extension Bucky was important too. He was and is apart of Cap's world. 

And with the release of all the HYDRA and S.H.I.E.L.D. files Natasha had uploaded to the internet, Bucky clearly wasn’t at fault. Sam just wondered if the general public would see it that way. The top officials headlining the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the eruption of the HYDRA conspiracy had listed Bucky as a wanted fugitive, armed and dangerous, but there was no kill on sight order or for law enforcement to engage him. Steve _personally_ went to Washington to deliver the number they could call if there were tips on Bucky’s whereabouts. 

But Sam continued the search, alone for quite some time, while Steve went off with the other Avengers to clean up Tony’s mess. Sam couldn’t exactly pinpoint the time where he began seeing Bucky through Steve’s eyes, but it pushed him more than ever to help find the man.

“Bucky, let me get you some water. Is that okay? I'm just gonna grab some from the sink.” Steve said lowly, moving slow deliberately to not give Bucky any cause to be afraid. He knew how fast Bucky could move, and that gun was only a few feet away.

Bucky met Steve's eyes, watching him run the tap and fill up a glass with water. Steve went back over to Sam but extended his arm out to hand Bucky the glass. Bucky bowed his head a bit looking through his ratty hair at the two men. 

“It's okay,”Sam nodded, “We aren't gonna hurt you. Just wanna help.” 

And with Steve humming in agreement, Bucky reached out, taking the glass, going to drain it in one gulp. 

“Take it easy, there's more, just go slow,” came the other man's voice, the man who Bucky didn't know but something inside him did. He believed he had fought with this man some time ago, kicked him off of an airborne launch pad...HYDRA called it a 'helicarrier'. 

The memories flash like a silent film in his mind, the people he killed that day, their faces hidden by their pilot helmets. Still, the body count was something he knew he should always keep track of. The names, the faces, the locations, the way he killed them, what he used on them, what some would say to him as they begged for their lives. 

Those voices were mantras that haunted Bucky, playing over and over again, and the faces were like flipping through an endless Rolodex. He didn’t recognize the significance of the kill count, he only knew to report the details of each one to HYDRA. How could he remember so much of that but so little of who he really was. Who was the _real_ Bucky and where was he now? Why did these men want him to be that man so badly?

Sam could see Bucky's eyes become unfocused, as the man hadn't even taken one sip of water yet. He could tell by the man's face that he was turning in on himself, possibly reliving whatever fucked up shit HYDRA put him through and made him do. To The Winter Soldier it was probably like flipping through a magazine, Sam thought. 

Bucky tried hard to regain control of his thoughts and emotions, feeling as if they would spill from him like blood gushing out of his victims. But it was this man in front of him that brought him out of it with a shout.

“Hey!,”Sam called out, bringing Bucky back from the horrors he ventured.

Sam had those moments himself, he could relate on some level at least. 

“Drink up,” Sam said, giving a quick look to Steve who still can't get over the shock of Bucky being in the same room as them. Sam figured he could take the reigns on this one. “And stay here. Just stay here. You feel like going into those dark places, just tell us and we'll take that ride with you. But for now, just be here.”

Bucky looked from Sam to Steve who nodded in agreement. The swell of tears in Steve’s eyes were threatening to fall as he stared at Bucky. 

And then something clicked again in Bucky’s mind, gears began shifting, “Don't cry, Stevie, it's not the end of the world.” Bucky's voice was a harsh rasp but the flavor of Brooklyn seeped through. 

The words were automatic flowing from his mouth, words he had no recollection of, but he knew the real Bucky had said them. 

He had said them some decades ago in some context long forgotten. But he had said them to Steve. Fierce, beautiful, fragile, kind-hearted Steve. A smaller version of Steve, but that version of him was as real as the Steve standing in front of him now, his face turning red as the tears he held back fell. Bucky felt something burn in his chest. It scared him.

Bucky felt strange standing there, watching Steve cry. He couldn't fathom why Steve would cry over him. Had he not tried to kill the man? 

But the dark-skinned man told him to drink the water slow, so Bucky was going to do just that. The taste of bile was rinse from his mouth and the cool water was refreshing on his chapped lips and parched throat. Bucky wonder if what the other man said was true. The dark places, the cold chambers of his mind, were sporadic at times, ambushing him in the worst of ways. 

The blood and violence was second nature to him now. It would never go away and so he had to. Away from any people, under the cover of night and thickets of bushes and trees littering Central Park or the numerous dark back alleys New York City had to spare. It didn't make since to keep killing. He didn't care for hurting anyone anymore but with HYDRA clinging to his back and their agents still out there in the shadows, he knew he would someday, be it blade or bullet.

He wondered if the voice was his best option to stop the body count. He wasn't hurting anyone so far. So maybe that was a good thing. 

But now this man next to Steve was looking at him with big, kind brown eyes. He was even smiling at him. He still didn’t feel threatened. So that was some kind of relief. Bucky knew he needed to listen to the voice, the one who seemed to have some sort of control over him. Maybe the voice was the _real_ Bucky. 

Was he that man now? Bucky was unsure. The name was certainly familiar. And having the man next to Steve and Steve himself, Bucky thought he could understand his other self's intentions. Would they help him?

The voice lead him here, _so maybe it was_ to seek help. But the spoken Russian that echoed in his head was very vague in what to do next. It was as if it said for him to stop thinking and just do as he was told. He was comfortable with that, but somehow he knew he shouldn't be. 

Bucky moved to set the now empty glass on the counter top, leaning just far enough not to disturb the sick puddle at his feet and track it over the floor. 

Steve smiled endearingly at him, “I'm gonna run you a bath, Buck. I'll get some fresh clothes for you too, okay?” Steve's smile only faltered a bit as he looked at Sam, something unspoken between them. 

Sam only nodded, “We're good here. It's cool,” he reassured Steve, who was still a little bit hesitant but left the room anyway. Sam knew how much Steve could worry. 

From what Bucky could observe, Steve seemed to trust the other man. It was an odd feeling being in the presence of a man he barely had a recollection of. This man was just another faceless object who stood in the way of what needed to be done. He wondered if the voice would tell him to trust the other man. 

' _Yes_ ,' came the unbidden sound of Russian again. The voice agreed. 

Bucky took in a harsh breath, his nerves getting the best of him as he watched Steve go. He and the other man were staring at each other. Bucky looked away first, an instinctual reaction to his handlers, to the ones that gave him orders. He was forced to submit, tortured into breaking the fiery will that he knew the _real_ Bucky carried with bravado, so he was told by his handlers anyway. He didn't know how long it took to break him, he only remembered the transition into being The Asset happened quick, and after that, he was locked away in freezing pain. 

_There it is_ , came the flick of a switch. He got it now. 

He was The Asset. 

He tried to think of something that Bucky would say, the Bucky he knew Steve liked. Maybe this man would like that Bucky too. But there were no words. No fluttering glimpse of his Brooklyn wit and charm he had just moments ago. 

Yet, The Asset had a tingling feeling of want, making him feel that this man should just like him instead. 

The strain of his thoughts seemed to be evident on his face-- _he just had to stop thinking--_ because the other man was approaching him slow, asking him, “You wanna get outta those things, ‘cause you’re lookin’ a little rough.”

The man hoovered near him but not daring to get too close, gesturing at Bucky's clothes. The Asset thought the man was smart in doing that. The Asset believed that uncontrolled he could lash out at any moment, no orders became non-compliance. But he had the voice. The voice made him feel safe. He didn't know why.

Maybe The Asset could accept _this_ man's direction. That made him feel even more comfortable. The _real_ Bucky would probably protest but he isn't present at the moment. 

Subconsciously, The Asset complied, taking off the heavy jacket, stoic in his meticulousness. He tossed the jacket in the same fashion as the gun, ridding himself of the dirty hoodie and undershirt.

“Woah,” Sam put up his hands, in the shape of a T. “Timeout, dude, I meant in the _bathroom_ , c'mon, Steve's probably filled the tub up by now.” 

Sam stalked past him, comfortable now that he sees that he won't have to look at a naked Bucky. He imagine the man would be embarrassed undressing in front of a stranger were Bucky in control of himself at the present. The dissociation was clear to Sam. He knew that Bucky was probably more messed up than he and Steve had anticipated when they would have found him. But seeing Bucky now though, this seemed worse than what he and Steve had imagined he would be. The hardest part would be telling Cap that.

Yet, with some clarity the Bucky Steve knew _wanted_ to come back, so Sam thought. But that Bucky seemed to fade into the background often enough for the more dominant personality of The Winter Soldier and a vague otherness version of Bucky; something was trailing behind the ferocity that was The Winter Soldier. Sam surmised that Bucky still had little control of which personality comes to the forefront. Sam hoped he wasn't wrong. 

Sam leads the man through the hallway and to the bathroom, there was a set of pajamas on top of the closed lid of the toilet seat. Steve wasn't in there but Sam saw that his bedroom door was closed, his voice soft and muffled. Sam knew he was on the phone with Tony. The two were a relatively new item and they fit well as much as oil and water, yet somehow they made it work, and the team was more than supportive. Natasha especially, trying to leave hints for Steve and Tony to follow. 

As oblivious as Cap could be, Tony was even more so; probably couldn't see over that massive ego of his. But they were together now. And they were one of those cute bickering couples, as much as Sam hated to admit it. But Sam, being the dutiful friend, and Natasha being an all around bad-ass, they warned Tony about breaking Steve's heart; there was a long talk about magnets and a car crusher with Tony in his Ironman suit.

Sam knows Tony wouldn't alert what's left of S.H.I.E.L.D. or the other Avengers about their current guest. But he could imagine Tony trying to convince Steve that they could help. Sam dispelled the thought and could only hope that Steve would figure out what was best for Bucky. Sam would listen and try to be as supportive as he could. 

He turned to Bucky...or rather The Winter Soldier then, seeing the man had taken off his pants. He wore no underwear. Sam didn't have the time to ogle because with the enclosed space of the bathroom and the proximity of The Winter Soldier being near him, he could get a good whiff of funk rolling off of the other man. Sam does his best to remain composed, he covers his nose with one hand and the other to grab a dark blue loofah and a bottle of liquid soap from the shower. The man seems unfazed by Sam's discomfort but he doesn't move toward the tub, just stares blankly ahead past Sam.

Sam is almost confused, here he is, in the presence of a man who almost killed him _and_ Cap, and well, killed a lot of people in general. And Sam was going to tell him to bathe himself because it was obvious from the jump that when Bucky is in the mindset of The Winter Soldier he could only follow orders now. And for whatever reason this deadly super-human assassin was going to listen to _him_. His life was a little bit _too_ exciting. And HYDRA is beyond fucked up. 

Steve would be appalled to hear that his friend is so broken that he has no will left to piece himself together, the only bit of Bucky left maybe was strong enough to get his selves to Steve. Sam wondered if that Bucky, the real one, knew he was losing to his alternates or whatever drove him here. He just hoped it wasn't HYDRA.

Sam's heart ached, a sudden feeling that crept up on him as he looked into Bucky's deep blue eyes, not even seeing himself in them. Bucky was very far away. Sam just hoped he could stay alive long enough to let Steve know and get Bucky all the help he needs. But first he has to give this man a bath.

Sam checks the water with his hand, the suds nice and frothy, emitting a clean seaside smell. Light and airy, and definitely all Cap. They would possibly have to change the water and Bucky could bathe again just to rid him of the excess grime for being on the run for two and a half years. “Well, hop in, man. Water's nice.”

With mechanical like movements Bucky gets into the tub, the water sloshing a bit over the sides as he slid into a seated position. And in a move that seemed instinctual, he drew up his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them and waited. Sam could only glimpse a spark of anxiety rising from the other man. Sam couldn't imagine what bath time with HYDRA was like. The thought disgusts him. He can't help but feel a pang of pity for Bucky. Sam crouched down on his haunches, pouring the soap on the loofah and dipping it into the warm water, letting the soap morph into thick bubbly suds.

He hands the prepared loofah to Bucky, who just stares at it like it's something from another world. Sam supposed it was in the mind of The Winter Soldier. 

“You can use this to wash yourself,” Sam said, feeling himself flush as he finally got a good look at Bucky's form. 

Bucky is stacked as much as Cap is, even if he was a bit starved, the muscles were still evident. Sam knows it's inappropriate to look at Bucky in such a fashion and sex is definitely the _furthest_ thing from his mind right now but he couldn't feel guilty about finding Bucky beautiful. Even with his wiry beard, greasy hair, and scarred arm where metal is connected to flesh as if it was soldered together. The thick jagged line of scar tissue that still looked painful covered his shoulder, and even with all that, the man still was beautiful.

Sam went to the Captain America Exhibit as much as he could when he was kid. His parents took him every time the curators acquired a new piece of Captain America's history. It was surreal knowing Cap so intimately, when he idolized the guy for so long, even going so far as to have a wet dream or two about him. There was no denying Steve was gorgeous, Sam wasn't blind. But what he used to feel for Cap was just a childhood crush. 

And coming to find out that Steve was bisexual was probably the most riveting moment of Sam's life, asides from all the joining The Avengers stuff, of course. Sam knew he like boys at a young age, his mother knew and she was cool with it. His father was reluctant to accept it, though, pressuring Sam to join the military to 'force the gay away'. However, that did little quell Sam's self discovery and it mainly reaffirmed that he wasn't alone and there were good people out there who could accept the differences. That was when he met Riley.

Even with Sam sitting with Bucky, whilst The Winter Soldier was hovering over the man, he couldn't help but think of his past. Sam wondered if the real Bucky was as much like him as Cap loved to tell him. Sam felt a little proud of that.

But it amazed Sam that a killer could look so harmless, turning pink from the heat of the water. Sam could even say that Bucky's Winter Soldier looked relaxed although he was scrubbing himself raw. And with Sam being brave enough to guide the other man's hand, showing him how to wash where it wouldn't hurt. The man began to understand and washed how Sam showed him. Sam wondered how long the man had gone not being able to clean himself properly. Sam rested his forehead on the side of the tub, moving to settle on his knees. The ache in his chest wouldn't go away, he couldn't imagine Bucky's endured pain.

And even with his brokenness the man still had a will to live, possibly to seek help and wanting to come _home_. Sam felt bad believing all these years that Bucky was just another one of those guys that sided with Cap. Nearly faceless and only his death being recognized in the museum. 

But Steve cleared that up real quick, Bucky was definitely more than that from the stories he told Sam. And this man being here right now with him was proof of that. Even with all of Bucky's transgressions, past and present, Sam was honored to be with him here. To the beginning of getting to know him. To work with Cap on another mission, one that he and Steve would definitely come out on top. They always did.

Bucky was their sole mission now and Sam was going to protect him at all cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I revised this chapter a bit. I may have to do so for the next one so it ties in well with the others. I really honestly remember writing chapter three. So sorry for those who read my story before then. I hope you guys weren't super confused. I will answer comments too. If you see something strange or some phrasing that is weird. please leave it in the comments. I don't have beta so I'm on my own in this one. haha. thanks for your continued interest!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve try. They're trying really hard. Bucky just has to live with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written anything in a while so I'm a bit rusty, any mistakes you see, they are imaginary and I hope they don't ruin the story for you. Thanks!

_Bucky feels a hand pull at his own, the black fog is thicker than before. The smell of gunpowder and blood is choking him. He doesn't know where he is. He can’t think._

_There is a chorus of screams echoing in his ears. There was something he had to do. He can't remember. He thinks he'll never remember._

_There is a small hand pulling at his own. It feels slick in his palm. He is afraid. He can’t bare to look down, but he does anyway. He meets himself, a small thin boy with his eyes. The slick red coating their hands is undoubtedly blood. Bucky squeezes the child’s hand tighter. The blood makes a sick squelching noise in between their palms_

_This is a sick, fucked up dream._

_‘What are we doing here?’, he asks himself, feeling his heart rattle inside his chest. He can't keep up with the tantrum but surprisingly he isn't out of breath. However, he doesn’t feel his mouth move as he speaks, instead he feels the words flow through his skin and into the boy._

_The boy huddles tight to his side, ‘You forgot again....,’ and he sounds disappointed. The boy squirms against him like he is trying to hide in Bucky’s clothes. What did he forget? Who did he forget? And the boy seems afraid. Afraid of something. What is it? Why can't he remember?_

_Bucky looks down his own body, he’s in uniform. The heavy blue jacket is stifling, and the fatigues too starchy on his legs. He feels immobilized by it._

_He tries to take off the jacket for relief until he realizes the stickiness of blood is all over him. Bucky looks down in horror, his left sleeve is shredded away and his arm is no more than a bloody stump._

_He screams._

_And somehow he knows it's only in his head. There is an unbearable ache. The screams he heard just before are howling in his ears, louder now. They mingle with his own. It’s endless. The pain that follows, it cripples him. He is on his knees now, curled in on himself but the screaming never stops._

_He feels the thin arms of the child around his neck, a meager attempt to comfort him. ‘If you don’t stop the masked man will come. He will hurt us. You have to be quiet!’ the boy’s skin is hot against him, his words striking his heart with fear, but Bucky just can’t stop _screaming_. The pain was too much. The sensation overwhelms him.  
Hot tears burn down his cheeks. His heart aches and aches._

_The boy version of himself grabs at Bucky’s face to get his attention and he feels the child's sticky, bloody hand print on his cheeks._

_‘Please, he’s gonna kill us!,' the child is begging. Why? How can he expect him to stop the hurt. Does the boy not understand his pain. Aren't they the same person?_

_And suddenly the boy vanishes and only for a moment Bucky tries to quiet himself. Clutching at the exposed bundle of nerves and bone where his arm used to be. The pain is still raw._

_Then he feels a shadow looming over him and the black fog comes to life around him. Rolling around in thick clouds of darkness. Bucky half expects the sound of thunder joining the haze but there is nothing around him but stark silence. The screams accompanying his own before have quieted._

_He turns around, an awkward shuffle on his knees. There is a figure of a man in black tactical gear is facing him. His face is covered with a black mask and dark goggles, his hair is long and unkempt. This man is familiar._

_Bucky raises his hand towards the man at the same time the man raises his._

_The man’s left arm is metal and its shine reflects the darkness as much as the blade of the knife he’s wielding does. The man stabs him deep in the chest. And for some reason Bucky is ready for it._

_It hurts and hurts._

_His gaping mouth filling with blood as he struggles to breathe. He feels the blood sloshing around in lungs. The second stab doesn’t hurt as bad as the first one and is followed quickly by the third._

_The fourth._

_The fifth._

_It is endless. And Bucky loses count. The pain is unbearable. So much so that he can't even fathom wailing about it._

_But Bucky is still here, choking on his own blood and looking down at the bloody pulp that was once his chest. His uniform mingles with his insides._

_It's a pure horror._

_It makes his stumped arm feel like a pinch. The blood splattering on his face washes away with his tears._

_And the masked man says nothing, he just continues to hack away until Bucky is mush._

_Bucky is drifting off now, the last thing he hears is the steady breath of the man in black, the whirring plates of his metal arm shifting as he digs into Bucky’s guts._

_Bucky feels himself slipping, he deftly turns his head away from the mangled mess that is his body, with the masked man still pillaging his insides with the knife. His eyelids nearly slides shut, dimming as the life escapes what muck is left of his body._

_And to the right of him is a door, slightly ajar with his child self’s face peeking out. The boy mouths something at him, but Bucky doesn’t understand. The boy's tears mirror his own. Bucky thinks he should feel guilty but then he is gone._

_And the door closes shut._

 

 

Sam drained the tub, letting the warm water run for a while until all the murkiness is cleared away from Bucky’s first wash. Bucky still sat with his legs close to his chest, remaining a tight ball of muscle. Sam didn’t tell Bucky to wash down _there_. He presumed that Bucky got the gist of what they were trying to accomplish but Bucky only washed his chest in the way Sam had shown him. Movement for movement Bucky just imitated Sam’s instructions. 

Sam's mind began short fusing. He didn't really know if he should bathe the man himself or just leave Bucky as is. He did sit in the water long enough for the musty smell of him was eliminated. But washing his junk was a matter of dire need. Gotta keep clean everywhere, but especially _there_.

But for now Bucky was going nowhere near his bottom half. The Winter Soldier might as well have been a baby right now. A fully grown, murderous baby.

Sam couldn't find the humor of this at all, but maybe later when Bucky is fully well enough to understand himself.

Sam couldn’t say he was perplexed, though. He knew this was not the scared, jittery Bucky that came to them earlier. Sam wondered when and how these shifts in personality happened. Each version of him leaving as quickly as they came. Even with Sam only having seen how he was in the beginning and who he was now. Sam didn't think they were the same, but it was nearly impossible to tell. At least this early in the stage of the situation. 

And how soon would one of them be strong enough to stay, to win dominance over the others. Sam just hoped it _wouldn't_ be The Winter Soldier, but that's who Bucky was for the longest time. How can his alternates undo that much mental modification. The _real_ Bucky Barnes was still in there, that he knew, but it was a matter of trying to get him to be the sole inhibitor of Bucky's body. 

Bucky’s Winter Soldier profile did not go into detail on what methods were used to change Bucky’s entire psyche. But anything horrible Sam dared to imagine was a likely possibility. The words genital mutilation came to the forefront of his mind. Sam shuddered, unsure if he wanted to go there. Please, no.

Sam knew that Bucky would always be The Winter Soldier but there wasn't a need for him to be that _now or ever_ , if he and Cap had it their way. Yeah, things were _a lot_ worse than what they had previously thought. But even The Winter Soldier should have a proper bath. Maybe a good soak would stir up some kind of feelings that could trigger the others locked away in Bucky’s mind. The less dangerous alternatives. But he noticed that the man in the tub was silent and still, seeming ready to take on any kind of pain inflicted, obediently accepting it. But Sam just ended up grabbing a bottle of shampoo and a comb. He could do this.

Bucky followed his every move with his eyes. Sam didn’t want to think that the other man was thinking about the thousand ways he could kill him with just the comb alone. Sam stooped back down to the tub’s side, opening the bottle of shampoo and pouring it into his palm.

“Now, don’t think I’m gonna be doing this for you everyday. Just showin’ you the ropes, is all. And..uh, it’d be real cool if you _didn’t_ rip my arms off.”, Sam said, pausing for just a moment to see if Bucky was going to protest.

But Bucky's the man’s lips parted, a tiny string of words leaving his mouth in a gravely near whisper. Of course it was in Russian so Sam couldn’t translate. But he mentally made a note to contact Natasha later. He was sure Steve would be on board with that. Natasha had Steve’s full trust. Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he was calling her right after talking with Tony. 

Sam raised his hand high over Bucky’s head, letting the the soap spill into his lanky hair. It slid down Bucky's matted locks, releasing a pleasant fragrance. Once Sam was satisfied that it was evenly distributed, he scooped up some of the fresh water in the tub and poured it over the man's head. Sam watched Bucky's face, the man barely batted an eye to Sam's ministrations. He also didn’t show any signs of discomfort and Sam took it as a sign to continue. 

Sam brushed his fingers through Bucky’s hair, he doesn’t stop to think about how soft it is despite being tangled and greasy. Sam doesn’t want to make it weird. 

He worked up a lather, his soapy fingers gently scratching at the other man’s scalp. And for a while it was just that. Sam couldn't say that he wasn't enjoying himself. It was a natural thing for him to be so nurturing. He knew this. And sometimes he was a little bit embarrassed about it. His former flames were sometimes definitely weirded out, but Sam enjoyed pampering someone. He blamed his mother for that, but in a good way.  
Sam hoped that Bucky would appreciated this later. And dare he hope, maybe the man, were he to return to his normal self, would be all for it. Sam stopped at the thought. He knew he shouldn't be pining for a man who was not in sole control of himself. Hell, he shouldn't be wanting Bucky at all. Where was the reasoning for that. Sam felt guilty for it and he couldn't fathom why,.

 

All too quickly, however, Sam froze at the slight shift of movement from Bucky. He was ready to dodge any manner of attack. Sam was still a very capable fighter, even without his wings.

Yet the attack never comes. It’s, surprisingly, just Bucky leaning into his touch. His face is relaxed and his eyes are closed. 

Sam swallowed audibly, unsure if he should keep going. But then came the realization of Bucky having never been touched with kindness, ever, in all his years with HYDRA. Never having been touched without underhanded motives, without malice. 

Decades of loneliness. Years of having no kind of relief from pain. Days gone by with no release. Sam knew that ' _talking it out and a hug_ ' won’t obliterate the things Bucky had gone through and continues to go through. Re-assimilation into society could never erase the horrid memories of the past 70 years of him being used as a killing machine. 

And that brought back the ache in Sam's heart. Maybe this moment they were sharing could be a start. Nothing more harmless than this.

Sam remained silent, stroking the other man’s head with both hands, rubbing the soap down to the ends, while Bucky just chases his hands, moving to get closer. Forcing Sam to cradle that side of his head ever so tenderly. And Sam can barely breathe. 

He thought before that this was a simple ease into societal norms. A friend showing a friend how to be a person again. But now it was beginning to dive into some other territory. Somewhere Sam didn't think he could be prepared to face. Oh, no.

Bucky changed positions now, letting go of his legs to make use of his arms. He grasped the side of the tub to shift himself towards Sam. 

Bucky turned his head sharply so Sam’s other hand fell to the side of his face. Sam felt a coil of tension wound up his spine as the rough hair of Bucky’s beard grazes his palm. He found his thumbs moving along the point high on the other man's cheek bones in soft strokes, with the rest of his fingers gently scratching being the backs of his ears. It was how one would pet the scruff of a dog, but this was much more sinful. Sam's life would never be the same again as he would always go back to reliving this moment he was having with Bucky.

The man was now looking at Sam through half lidded eyes, his pupils black and wide, leaving only a thin ring of blue around them. And Sam can't help but look at him, all warm and wet. And he makes the mistake to keep on looking because now he knows Bucky's got all his parts. Sam felt his eyes grow comically wide, catching a full glimpse of Bucky's _very_ erect dick peeking out of the water. 

A soft moan came as a sigh from his pretty, soft pink lips, then catching the bottom one between his teeth, taking in a slight breath. He rose up to meet Sam, who still had a hold on his face. Sam didn't know when to let go. He wasn't even sure he wanted to. Bucky's mouth was so close to his own. Sam was instantly red-faced and growing hard in his shorts, and he was _so_ ready for it.

And now it’s weird.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

Sam jumped to his feet, his soapy hand dripping suds onto the floor. Bucky only looks up at him, there is a subdued hunger lacing his eyes, and something else, maybe desperation. Bucky or rather The Winter Soldier has reduced himself to an animal looking for a pet from his master and that was something Sam was _not_ going to take advantage of. 

“Well, just finish up here, run some water through your hair to get the soap out. Use the comb, to uh..to uh, de-tangle it….and, yep, you got this,” Sam says in a rush and swiftly leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He bumps into Steve in the hallway, who goes to steady him with his big, strong hands. 

Sam just can’t deal with these super soldiers right now. 

And yeah, it's been a while for him. Avengers stuff takes up so much of his time, not that he's complaining. But it'd be nice if evil world-conquering aliens and C-class villains could give them some time off. 

“Everything okay in there?”, Steve face is full of concern but he seems mildly happy. Tony must have gotten with the program.

“Well I didn’t die,”Sam quipped, regaining composure, “but we do have a bit of a problem. Shit, man, it’s...He's going through it.”

Steve barely noticed that Sam was stuck in a dance between extreme guilt and being ‘all hot and bothered’ following Bucky’s budding eagerness. Steve’s brows furrowed, “Just tell me what we’re dealing with, Sam.” His tone brimming with anguish.

Sam took a deep breath to calm his nerves and gain some sort of control over his body betraying him.

“To be honest this is beyond me, I mean, I got the degrees and everything, but my kind of counseling is not enough to undo what’s happened to him, what _is_ happening to him. It’s a start, but we’re gonna need several people on this one, Cap.” Sam’s stomach sinks at Steve’s disheartened look. “Look, that’s just my professional opinion. I can’t be everyone’s therapist. And I don’t want to be, for the very same reason I recommended Tony to someone else, I’m your friend.” 

Sam clasped Steve’s shoulder. “Besides, friends can give some advice too, I just don’t think it’s practical for me to be Bucky’s therapist with him going to be so involved with the team. But you can be damn sure that I’m going to help him in any way I can but just--.”

“As a friend,” Steve finished for him, pausing for a long moment before meeting Sam’s eyes with understanding. Steve covered Sam’s hand on his shoulder with his own. “Thank you, Sam.”

Sam felt his face flush from Cap’s tender look, his feelings are strictly platonic but he’s not blind to Steve’s good looks. Man, he _really_ needed to get laid.

Their moment is broken when the bathroom door opened from behind them. 

Bucky stood in the doorway, dressed in the pajamas Steve had set out for him, an Ironman t-shirt and some matching flannel bottoms. They are a bit too big but not so much so that they swallow Bucky, sticking to him a bit on parts of his body that were still wet. Water dripped from the ends of his long hair onto his shoulders. The metal arm was glistening with little pearl like beads of water dropping to the floor. Sam now knew it was still water proof after all Bucky's time away. It was also obvious that he didn't dry himself, and Sam certainly was not going to do it. And thank fuck that the other man's hard-on was absent. 

Sam couldn't begin explaining that one to Steve were it the opposite.

Steve only smiled at him, “It’s okay Bucky,” he said. His attempt at reassuring the other man that there was no danger present was unconvincing. Concern was etched all over Steve's face. 

Sam looked on as Bucky slowly exited the bathroom, his shoulders hunched, trying to make himself look small. Sam could see that Bucky was no longer The Winter Soldier, he felt guilty about being relieved at that. Bucky's eyes were wild, laced with fear. Like he was a kid again. Sam doesn't think the guilt he felt would go away, it's just kept getting heavier.

Sam could feel Steve 'mother hen-ing' over his shoulder as they stood in an awkward silence.“You gotta be hungry after all that. You chucked up everything you had,” Sam chimed in, breaking the quiet spell, also in effort to delete the last five minutes from his mind, _forever_. No matter how hot Bucky was, Sam wasn't about to make things _more_ complicated for the man and himself. 

“Yeah, I got a few things. We can whip up something for you,” Steve said with a burst of excitement, catching on fast and glad that there will be something they can do for Bucky while simultaneously keeping an eye on him. No one would be getting much sleep tonight. It would be terrible for Steve to wake up in the morning and find that Bucky had left. _Again_. Steve was not going to take that chance. He also knew that Sam wouldn’t let that happen either. And in a much darker scenario, Steve couldn’t imagine Bucky killing him and Sam in their sleep, but he knew that Bucky was capable of it.

The three of them huddled into the kitchen then. Bucky was as quiet as he had been when he first arrived. And Steve cleaned up the mess Bucky left fairly quickly, the smell of Fabuloso wafting through the air was refreshing but strong. Steve loved the stuff so Sam didn't mind and Bucky didn't seem to notice.

Sam rummaged around the kitchen trying to find something that would be light on Bucky’s stomach. With HYDRA, Sam imagined Bucky eating only things in a paste or liquid form. It was no wonder why Bucky looked fairly gaunt, he was barely adjusted to solid foods. And Sam was sure that most of what he ate was over processed garbage he found in the trash in effort to keep on hiding.

He surmised that any food in the stomach when going into HYDRA's Cryo would be a biological complication the HYDRA scientists could not afford with Bucky. So to think of Bucky barely getting anything to eat in between his deadly missions was horrific. Just one more thing denied to the man. Sam could hardly stand the thought of it. 

Sam knew in the beginning he sympathized with Bucky when he and Cap began their search for him. And then when Cap called on Sam to continue the search alone while he went off to save the world. _Again_. Sam pressed on dutifully, but somewhere along the way he began to feel empathy. He was now thinking of Bucky's experiences as his own problems, which was the worst thing he could do for himself given his education and his words to Steve about _not_ being Bucky's therapist. 

To empathize with Bucky was to understand him. Sam didn't want to look at Bucky with a clinical eye, poking and prodding around in his mind and into all the horrible things that resided there. No, he didn't want to be the one to do that; he felt more for Bucky than what he felt for a patient. Bucky was his friend now, even if the man didn't really know it yet. And Sam realized that _he_ too was being a mother hen. But he supposed Bucky needed all the support he could get. 

Sam wondered back out from his burgeoning thoughts to complete his inventory of Cap’s food stocks which were basically packaged Great Depression. There were bland flavors of everything, boxed and full of grains, and Cap wasn't a man with a full spice rack. It was one of the reason’s why he and Sam have weekly meals together. Sam would always bring enough so Steve could have leftovers. 

Sam's mother’s meatloaf was a surprising treat because she only made it once in a blue moon. She was stubborn like that. No matter how much Sam had begged. But once he said it would be for Cap, she was on board. She also thought Steve was his boyfriend for the longest time. Oh, the amount of second hand embarrassment Sam felt for her when she asked Cap when he was going to marry him. Sam couldn’t take it. Making it worse when she told Steve of the time when Sam told her he was going to marry Captain America at the age of four. He and Cap can laugh about it now, but the embarrassment creeps up on Sam on some nights just before he goes to bed. _Tragic_.

Sam pulled out a thin red box of Cream of Wheat, setting it on the stove as he went to find a pot. Bucky sat still at the table watching the men meander about the kitchen, with Steve going off to the bathroom to put back the cleaning supplies. Bucky doesn’t look so scared anymore, just somewhat uncomfortable, like they are strangers. And Sam supposed they were to this version of Bucky, with his wide, child-like stare at Sam moseying about the kitchen. There was a sweet, shy curiosity in those blue eyes.

Sam wasn’t sure of how he could explain that to Cap, what Bucky was _really_ going through. He wasn't even sure if Cap noticed that Bucky was somewhat different, but soon enough Steve would understand and it would hurt him. 

He knew Steve would take on even more guilt that would pile up on how he felt when he lost Bucky the first time, and there would be no coming back from that. He knew that waiting to tell him would be awful, and for Sam it would feel like he was betraying Cap. So, he thought it would be best to wait until Bucky fell asleep, that is, if the man did that sort of thing nowadays.

Sam waited for the water to boil, occasionally sneaking glances at Bucky just to be sure the man didn't disappear behind his back. And Bucky, in turn, would look at him. 

They did that for a few more turns until it morphed into a silly game, Bucky’s smile was shy but kind of playful. Sam was only a bit relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with The Winter Soldier for now, while disconcerted that this meant Bucky’s mental state was definitely in shambles. A lethal assassin behaving as a child would, like he didn’t just kick a man into a jet turbine a couple of years ago and booted Sam in the chest off the helicarrier. But where should the blame lie? No one knew just how deep HYDRA got into Bucky or how much Bucky got into HYDRA. All they knew right now that it had to be undone.

“Sorry, I don’t have the good stuff.,” Steve said to Bucky gently upon returning to the kitchen, 

“Tomorrow we can go somewhere, get something nice. You know I wasn’t much of a cook back then.” Steve leaned casually against the fridge, folding his arms against his chest as he stared at Bucky for a long moment. He looks kind of ridiculous in Sam’s opinion, with his bulging muscles, trying to look less than intimidating to the other man, but the seriousness of his tone is just heartbreaking. Sam doesn't like what's coming.

Steve’s eyes mist over, shifting around a catalog of memories before picking one, “You use to make me soup. I was sick a lot, and you’d go out and come back with a bunch of days old food. You’d pick off the rotten parts and throw the rest into a pot with a bunch of water and salt. You’d make everything so salty.,” he broke into a sad laugh with a smile not quite reaching his eyes. 

“But there was this one time, where....where we both thought I wasn't gonna see tomorrow. I was just _so_...sick. And you...you stayed with me all night, holding me, humming all the songs you knew I liked in my ear...God...do you remember that, Buck? Do you remember what I said? I--,” The knock on the front door was startling no matter how soft the sound was. Bucky's eyes slowly moved away from Steve's and over his shoulder. 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, barely masking his annoyance, so Sam knew who it was. While Cap went to answer the door, Sam poured the porridge into the pot making sure to stir it as it hit the water, watching it take a minute or so to cook. He couldn't help but listen to the barely hushed whispers of Steve and Tony bickering at the cracked door. 

“I told you _not_ to come.”, came Steve's contained fury. 

“Nuh-uh, rules from last night aren't applicable in the morning.” Tony countered, using Steve's embarrassment against him as he slid into the apartment.

Sam nearly overflowed the bowl he was pouring for Bucky upon hearing that. He looked up once Stark entered the kitchen toting a bottle of champagne with a gaudy ribbon attached. Sam was glad that Bucky was on the other side of him, making Stark seem like less of a threat as Sam kept himself between the two.

“Thought we could celebrate, Wilson, seeing that the missing link is finally found.” Tony rambled, pulling out a chair and facing Bucky. Sam wondered if he should just move out the way and let Bucky have at it, seeing Stark's smug face.

Steve walked back over to them after locking the door, his face still a bit pink. He gave an apologetic look to Sam, before making introductions, “Bucky, this is Tony Stark...um, Howard Stark's son. Do you remember meeting Howard Stark?”, Steve's voice is entirely too hopeful. 

Sam felt bad about that. It's definitely not the best way to go about helping Bucky. He puts the finishing touches on Bucky's meal, adding just a bit of butter and maple syrup and giving it a quick stir. The only noise in the room is the clink of the spoon hitting the bowl. 

Bucky doesn't bother to look at Tony. He doesn't speak. He just watches Sam's hand twirl the spoon around the bowl.

“Yeah, I know,” Tony shrugged, pulling the ribbon from the bottle, “Definitely not worth remembering. See, I like this guy already. Shame on you, Rogers, for trying to hide him away.”

“Tony. Bedroom. Now.”, Steve grabbed Tony from his seat by his upper arm with ease, and the grin on Tony's face is ridiculously debauched.

“Yes, honey,” the man's reply was entirely too playful as he's being dragged away, bottle still in hand, “Don't take it easy on me.” And soon the bedroom door is shut.

Sam let go of the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. He slid the bowl to Bucky, who's head hung low, not meeting his eyes. 

“Sorry about that,” Sam sighed, moving to sit in Tony's forgotten seat. “That guy's missed a meeting or two about boundaries,” he tried to laugh it off, but Bucky was silent and unmoving. Sam leaned forward, bending low to catch Bucky's eyes, “C'mon, man, don't expect me to spoon feed you too.”

Bucky is set into motion then, taking up the spoon in his right hand and shoveling the porridge in his mouth with gusto. He doesn't even flinch at the heat of it. Physical pain probably didn't register fully in Bucky's mind, Sam marveled at that, wondering how many times the man had gotten hurt on one of his missions and just kept on, not because he wanted to, but he was _forced_ to. Sam had seen the faint scars along the other man's body. They seemed endless, each one varied from another. But the trauma was more than likely still unchanged.

Bucky stopped half way through the bowl, looking at Sam head on. His eyes are clear-water blue and he has a bit of color back in his cheeks. He looks entirely too young in those silly Ironman pajamas, even with the heady beard. Sam's spine straightens as Bucky lips part to speak,.

“What's you're name?,” he asked, his voice is still that of a man but has a bit of lightness to it. It's entirely too cute, but it still breaks Sam's heart.

However, Sam felt like this was a tiny reward in progress. Getting Bucky talking is the best way to figure out what is really going on inside him, even if he didn't know what was happening to himself. Small victories were still victories. 

“I'm Sam Wilson,” Sam replied after a moment too long.

Bucky nodded, his eyes drifting toward the maple syrup still left out on the table. “Sam, can I have more of that?”

And Sam can feel himself smiling like a loon, “Yeah, man, as much as you want. Go for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is revised as well. Thank you for reading. I made it much better though. More bathtime than before. ;D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve says something stupid. Sam reacts. And Bucky is just there. Also, more Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is pretty much a chapter on issues of consent given that Bucky is The Winter Soldier so proceed with caution. And I'd love to know what you think about this story as a whole. Don't be afraid to leave a quick comment, or a question, or a suggestion. Thanks!

Okay, so Sam's mom wouldn't let it go. She knew that he and Cap weren't together but she still would make little hints at what should have been. 

Her latest stint was a crochet blanket, weaved with red, white and blue. And in the middle was a design of Cap's shield with the star in the center of the rings replaced by a heart, and on the outer rim of the shield was a large spread of Falcon's red and white wings. Even the kids his mother fostered thought Steve was his boyfriend. No, God—or rather, Gods forbid--she would ever take it easy on him.

It was the last time Sam brought Steve over her house for dinner. But Steve took it in stride, dubbing the thing as the “The Blanket of Friendship”. 

And now the gaudy thing is draping over Bucky's broad shoulders as they sit on the couch together, watching television. Well, it was more like watching Bucky pressing every button on the remote, changing Steve's default settings in the process. The tint was up on the screen, making everything a few more shades of green. Sam didn't mind. Bucky actually looked a bit enthused by it, judging the break of a tiny smile on his face.

After Bucky asked for his name and the syrup he didn't initiate any kind of conversation and Sam wasn't going to force him. He wasn't going to force the man to do anything. 

Once Bucky was done eating and _not_ throwing it back up (another small victory for Sam) he began looking around Steve's apartment, engaged in every little detail, filing it away. And when his eyes landed on the sleek flat screen television propped up in front of the couch, Sam knew that that's where they would end up. 

So, now here they were.

Eventually, they land on the QVC channel, watching a woman present a costume piece necklace glittering with various stones. Her fingers fumble a bit with the thing, and it is supremely ugly, but Sam began to wonder if he could get it for his mother. Sometimes the QVC hosts were just that convincing. It lead Sam to travel down the road of what Bucky would present to his own mother were she still alive. Sam did _extensive_ research on Bucky's family background, trying to find some clue leading to his whereabouts. It wasn't pretty, and all that research lead nowhere. And sadly, all of his siblings are dead. He was alone. But he didn't have to be, in Sam's mind.

He would never be alone again.

To Sam's right, Bucky let out a shaky yawn, his eyes dimming from the bright green glow. Sam wasn't about to tell him to go to bed, he still was a grown ass man no matter what personality was currently inhabiting his mind. And just maybe letting Bucky fall asleep naturally was the best thing, it could regulate him into choosing to do it when he wants to or just simply bring back the normal bodily function HYDRA probably wanted stamped out. And maybe Sam did enjoy his company a little _too_ much.

Bucky's head dropped slightly as he leaned forward, suddenly bobbing up again as he tried to stay awake. Sam's chest ached again, realizing that not sleeping _was_ normal for Bucky, no matter who he was right now. Nothing could attack you if you could see it coming. Sam reminded himself to ask Steve how long he could go without sleep. Maybe Bucky's mental state deteriorated because of the lack of rest. Always on the run and hiding, not knowing who he used to be. Not trusting anyone for help over the span of a couple years. _Always alone_. Sam closed his eyes to stop the trailing thoughts, he was empathizing again. 

And Tony, along with Steve, were still in the bedroom doing whatever they did behind closed doors, Sam didn't want to guess, but they were quiet about it, at least. Sam only hoped Steve had warned Tony how delicate the situation with Bucky was and to definitely not be _Tony Stark_ around the man. But knowing Tony, it was the equivalent of ' _don't push the red button_ '. Tony jabbed a pen in Dr. Banner's side, Sam heard from Steve, and still didn't get a green fist to the face. And Sam knew Bucky didn't have Bruce's astounding amount of self-control, but Bruce as his self and the Hulk managed as one. 

Then it clicked.

A light bulb exploded into being in Sam's head, a swirl of ideas forming in his mind. He _had_ to tell Steve. But...maybe a little later, whenever him and Tony finished...' _talking_ '. 

Sam looked back to Bucky. The man had a curtain of hair falling along side his face as his head dropped low towards his chest. Bucky eyes slipped closed. The thick 'Blanket of Friendship' covering him made him look a hell of a lot less threatening, but Sam was extra careful just in case. He gently tapped the outside of Bucky's thigh with the back of his hand a couple times. Bucky isn't startled at all, his head turning slowly to face Sam, his eyebrows raising in question. His blue eyes still mirrored a sheepish child.

“Couch is all yours, man, go ahead and lay down if you want,” Sam said, stretching once he was up on his feet. It's been a long day for all of them, Bucky especially. 

Bucky shyly looked down the length of the couch and back up to Sam, then his eyes trailed to the floor. The damn ache hit Sam's chest again, watching Bucky have an internal struggle of what to do with being given a choice. Sam just had to reassure him, he found himself using the very tips of his fingers to tilt Bucky's head up by his chin, guiding the other man to meet his eyes. Sam couldn't stop this burgeoning tender loving care he demonstrated on Bucky. Sam didn't want to.

“Hey, it's okay. You sleep upright if you wanna, but it's a hell of a lot more comfortable if you lay down.”

Bucky's looking at Sam, the strange feeling of being touched with not a bit of pain behind it. It's confusing, Sam smiling at him was confusing. But the man said Bucky could sleep. Sleeping was too scary for him sometimes. It's when the nightmares would come. Bucky subconsciously knew that the nightmares weren't of his own making. They belonged to someone else. Someone that was him but also not. But that didn't matter now. Sam was here. Sam liked him and smiled at him and fed him. Bucky knew he liked that; he knew he could trust Sam.

Putting his feet up on the couch and lying back against a throw pillow was also a strange sensation. He should be used to this but his body betrays him. The comfort of it all seemed to be too much to handle all at once. That, too, was scary

The blanket was warm as he watched Sam pull it around him, the graze of Sam's fingers against his body was foreign, not a bit of hurt associated with it. Bucky liked that. _A lot_.

Satisfied with seeing Bucky lying down and looking almost comfortable even with the bewilderment in his blue eyes. Sam moved to go, not sure what he was going to do next, but he wanted Bucky to have some peace. Some time with himself that didn't revolve around trying to stay alive, where he could just rest unencumbered by the thoughts of someone coming for him. So, he didn't expect the touch of metal wrapped around his wrist to be so warm. 

Bucky's chrome hand pulled him back slightly, as much horror as that hand had wrought, the touch was _so light_. 

Sam felt his face grow hot as Bucky's hand traveled down from his wrist and into the palm of his hand. Sam could feel the grooves of the plates of Bucky's hand and he found himself gripping onto it. 

“Stay,” Bucky's voice was sleepy soft, the sound was not a command, it was pleading. And Sam was all for it because, honestly, he wanted that too. 

Sam's has his eyes on Bucky, letting them flow down to his lips that split into a lazy smile. Sam wondered if Bucky knew he was doing it, ghostly facial expressions that hadn't surfaced in years. But at this moment Sam didn't care. He nodded at the other man, “Yeah,sure. I'm not goin' anywhere.”

His heartbeat was frantic as he was still caught of in the gaze of Bucky's handsome face. The beard didn't do him justice but it was all the same to Sam. He like Bucky in his entirety. 

Sam licked his lips, watching the other man pull his hand to the side of his face and up into the silky tresses of his long dark hair. It was _so_ soft. More so than when he first hadn't washed it. Sam didn't breathe, as if one exhale would ruin this innocent moment with this child of a man. A child seeking approval and tenderness from a person he grew to trust, Sam thought. Sam definitely wanted to be that person, even if he felt that it should have been Steve taking his place. Sam didn't care though, he was happy to be anything Bucky could need at this very moment. A friend.

Sam gave the man one last parting smile, letting his hand slip from him, then he settled into the recliner sitting off to the side of the couch. Sam pulled back the small lever and instantly his feet are propped up. No sound disturbed the quiet in the room beside the muted voices of the QVC hosts now selling interchangeable clothing. But that didn't matter. Bucky was already asleep.

 

 

Sam didn't know how long he was asleep, but he could hear birds chirping outside Cap's window. It was probably early morning. A time Sam had no intention of waking up.

He was groggy from his rest, not wanting to be pulled from it. He was entirely too comfortable in Cap's huge recliner, and also entirely too warm. He knew he didn't have a blanket, but the feeling was nice anyway, and he settled further down in the plush cushion to slumber some more. 

He was dozing immediately because the dream started seconds after. Strong arms wrapped around his neck with puffs of hot breath in his ear. 

Sam really liked this dream. The ones with no clear warning, they just start and it takes everything for Sam's brain to catch up.

Someone faceless settled their weight on him, a leg over each side of Sam's thighs. The slow grind against him showed that his dream lover was definitely interested. Sam was soon hard in his pants too and they pressed together in perfect harmony. Nice.

Lips ghosted over Sam's ear, a hot mumble of something Sam doesn't think is pure English. Foreign dirty talk. Yeah, Sam didn't know he'd be into that but it was definitely pushing all the right buttons. The dream man's voice was low and breathy with the side of his beard rubbing harshly along Sam's jaw. And the man smelt so good too. Sea breeze. Sam couldn't say how long ago he had had a wet dream but this one took all the others to school, even those that were about Cap. 

The man in the dream knew how to work it, with his hips moving in a slow, agonizing circle over Sam's groin. Sam's pants were tight, his dick was leaking in his trousers. The faceless man above him shuffled close enough so the length of Sam nestled in between the groove of his ass cheeks. 

Sam's hands move almost on their own accord to grasp at the other man's ass, a nice palm full of flesh in each one. This is _wild_. Sam is loving it. And the sweet moans of the man on top of him further encouraged him. Sam could feel the warmth of the other man's skin through his shirt. He nearly swooned at the graze of the other man's tightly budded nipples against his broad chest. 

Yeah. Alright, time to get _naked_.

Sam subconsciously wished his clothes away, wanting to skip the tedious business of having to take them off himself. And he kept wishing....and _wishing_. Sam definitely knew that when he usually imagined something in a dream it wondrously happened, especially in sexual dreams. Okay, maybe he _did_ have a lot of wet dreams about Cap as an overly hormonal teenager. But they were nothing compared to this. 

Yet, there was still something wrong, even as he's mouthing at the dream man's neck, enjoying the burn of his beard against his lips. Fuck it, he thought. He could have _this_ at the very least. He felt that he didn't need anything else _but_ this right now. He wanted it so bad; he didn't want to let this dream go.

Then a light flicked on, erupting a bright burst of color behind Sam's closed eyes.

“OH MY GOD!,” and it's Steve's voice echoing in the room, jarring Sam from the dream. He expected the man in his arms to disappear but Sam found himself still palming two ass cheeks.

Sam slowly opened his eyes, and nearly died when he saw Bucky.

Despite his beard, Bucky's high cheek bones were tinted pink, with tendrils of hair sticking to the sweat beading along his forehead. And his lips were a nice cherry red from where he had bitten them like he had been caught up in the moment. Just as Sam had been. Maybe more.

His shirt is still rucked up over his chest, the small brown nipples are hard tight buds. Sam wanted to put his mouth all over them. The temptation was far too great. But Bucky had an excuse for his lewd behavior whereas Sam just felt like a complete dumbass and a pervert. 

Sam was positively equal parts mortified and turned on.

Steve's face overflowed with rage, carting a fury that Sam has only seen on the man's face when they're in a battle or when Tony did something surprisingly stupid. Like _Ultron_. 

But that anger was solely directed at him. Sam didn't like it. How could he? His best friend and partner seriously looked like he was going to murder him. And that's _with_ him knowing Steve's strength. 

Steve steps toward him and Bucky were menacing, so much so that Bucky was already on his feet. His body poised and ready for an attack. He cursed something in Russian, and Sam knew it was a warning. And he honestly wished he could do something about it, to stop the violence that was actually about to go down, but he is still frozen into place by shock and embarrassment.

“Bucky?,” Steve's face is confused, but still brimming with righteous anger.

“Damn, Wilson, you move fast.,” Tony came in from behind Steve, moving closer to his side, ready to protect the man. Even without the Ironman armor, Tony was still brave, Sam had to give him kudos for that.

“You must've made quite the impression.,” he continued, eyes not missing the stain on the front of Bucky's pajama bottoms. Also Bucky's _erection_. Yeah, Sam still thought Tony was an asshole.

Sam was at a loss for words for what he felt and how Bucky managed to look so dangerous with a hard-on was beyond him. Steve's eyes, though, looking at him like he's been betrayed. Eyes that bore down on Sam with accusation. Sam wish he had his wings because he was ready to jump out the window. This was going to be hard to explain but if Sam could connect to his brain, he could do some damage control.

Steve took another step, his hands out to Bucky. And the sound Bucky made can only be described as a snarl, he spits out the warning again. Steve let's his hands fall to his sides, eyes flicking from Bucky to Sam who was still seated in the chair. Sam had to make sure he wasn't talking down Cap with his _own erection_ , one caused by Cap's precious childhood best friend. Sam felt like going to Hell now. 

“Buck, I can't understand you,” Steve's anger simmering down to a resigned despair.

“Well he definitely said, ' _Move, and I will kill you._ ',” came Tony's translation and everyone, including Bucky turned to look at him.

Tony merely shrugged, “I _am_ a genius and I've known Natasha longer than any of you.” He smiled after a beat, “And I may or may not have learned Russian just to impress her and get into h--”

“Tony, enough.,” Steve raised a hand to quiet him. “Ask Bucky what's going on. I want to hear it from him.”

Sam side-eyed Cap, feeling _himself_ be betrayed. Even though the situation was a misunderstanding, Cap couldn't seriously think that he would take advantage of Bucky. Right?

Tony stepped in front of Steve, facing Bucky head on. “Why are you fondling, Wilson?,” he asked in Russian, the question completely going over Steve and Sam's heads. “And I know you can understand English but we can talk Russian to save Wilson from further embarrassment. El Capitán over here is about to turn him into a pretzel.”

“And just for the record, if you harm Steve in any way, I will take you down and make it hurt. _A lot_.,” Tony's voice dipped low with his own warning. “We are trying to help you, and we can't do that if you keep this up. No fighting in the house. Steve's apartment maybe small but his bed is big and I like sleeping here. Now, what's your deal?”

Bucky stared at Tony, his eyes sizing the man up. There was nothing to fear from Tony Stark. The Asset knew the man was virtuously powerless without his garish suit. Steve, on the other hand, was strong, maybe stronger than himself. However, The Asset was an expert at taking strong men down.

' _That's right, soldier_.,' came the distorted voice in his head, cooing at him like it might do for a pet. But the tone was mocking, ' _Tell them that you desire Wilson, and nothing else_.' 

The Asset _had_ to obey even if the thought confused him. Did he _really _want Sam? His body certainly did. Was he out of control now? Would he be punished for this?__

__For waking up and crawling into the other man's lap without being prompted. The Asset liked how Sam had held him. Like he was something not worth letting go._ _

__“I want Sam.,” Bucky growled out, his face entirely frozen with a grimace. He had to stop this descent into disorder. He could hear the voice in his head take note of all his thoughts. Why was everything so wrong now?_ _

__Tony's eyebrows rose high on his forehead, “Interesting, but okay.”_ _

__He turned back to Steve, falling back into English. “Man wants what he wants, sweetheart. That just so happens to be Wilson. And as far as the friends with benefits thing goes, he's a good choice.”_ _

__Sam cringed at Tony's turn of phrase, about to contest whatever it was that had gotten into Bucky's head. But Steve spoke first._ _

__“He doesn't sound like he's being... _forced_ into it?” Steve fretted, his eyes darting from Sam to Bucky again. He looked more confused, than upset now. But Sam didn't care, he felt _insulted_. How could Cap doubt him like that? Think _that_ of him? __

__“Okay, fuck this,” Sam said, burning with anger. Fuck Tony. Fuck Bucky. And double fuck Steve. He didn't have to take this shit. He was up out of his seat and at the door in a just few steps, ripping his jacket from the coat rack._ _

__“Wilson, hold on,” Tony called from behind him, but Sam's hand is already on the doorknob. He wasn't having it._ _

__“Sam, please, I'm so sorry,” Steve started. “I didn't mean to say---,”_ _

__But Sam cut off Steve's backpedaling. He turned back to face them, “No, Steve, you meant exactly what you said. Fuck you, for even considering for one goddamn second that I would do something like that to him. I'm not HYDRA, I'm not controlling Bucky, nor am I a rapist asshole. Jesus, Steve, why would you...I'm your friend.”_ _

__Sam's heart got heavy; Captain America, his childhood hero, his friend, his partner thought Sam would hurt someone he considered a friend too._ _

__“I know, Sam, I just---with Bucky I just get so---,” Steve started again but Sam is no where near done. He has to let him have it. He may feel guilty about it later but that was later. Now though, Sam was _really fucking mad at him_._ _

__“Yeah, let's talk about that.,” and Sam barely recognized his own voice, he can't remember a time where he ever sounded so vicious._ _

__“Let's talk about how you left Bucky with me to take care of like I'm _The Help_ , while you and Tony fucked in the bedroom no more than five feet from us.,” And Sam knew it was a low blow but he seriously wanted to hurt Steve. He knew Cap had not one bigoted bone in his body. Sam didn't get how a person could feel so angry without exploding and he was doing just that. _ _

__“Let's talk about the way you look at him, carrying all that guilt. At first I thought it was because you were still hurt from not saving him the first time. But then, when you were telling him about the past, how he took care of you when you were sick, held you and nurtured you. I knew then that you didn't feel guilty for not saving Bucky from that train. You felt guilty about not saving him when he never knew how you _really_ felt about him.,” Sam said, hating his own accusing tone. But he felt gross satisfaction seeing the hurt, questionable look Tony gave Steve._ _

__Steve looked at him like the he was another person, and honestly, Sam felt that way. He hadn't boiled in this much anger in a long time, not since his father was killed. Steve knew about that though. Sam told him. But Sam didn't tell him how much it hurt him. Nope. Not a word on the way he was after that. How much shame he brought upon his mother back then. But Harlem was a different place all those years ago. Bad things still happened, even today, but they now had an Avenger in their corner. The Falcon. But in this moment, his title didn't seem to matter. At least that's what he felt Steve thought._ _

__Sam had to go._ _

__“Forcing Bucky to remember things for only your selfishness is definitely the _worst_ way to help him. And that's not fair to Tony either.” Sam opened the door, stepping out, but not before giving them one last stormy look._ _

“And that's my fucking _professional_ advice!,” and the door slammed shut with a bang.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is a hot mess of emotions. Tony has little patience. Everyone gets hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late on the update (I try for every 3 or 4 days, but my cat babe got sick) Anywho, this chapter is a little longer than I want it to be, but a lot starts happening. And please forgive any spelling errors and grammatical errors, I've noticed that I change tenses a lot. Sometimes the story flows better, and makes it more enjoyable for me to write. I am super rusty. But thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy. Comments, questions, suggestions are welcomed. I am so happy you guys are liking it.

Sam doesn't want to admit that he cried in the elevator of Cap's apartment building. But there were a _few_ tears. He jingled his car keys in his coat pocket, the sound distracting him from the shuddering breaths he took to calm himself. Stepping off the elevator, Sam rushed out the front doors of the building before he had any thought about going back; how he and Cap could hug it out and both save face. 

Sam didn't feel like he was proving a point to Steve, but it didn't matter now. To be let into the building he would have to be buzzed in, and Sam was too stubborn and too angry to push the little talk button. He didn't want to be the one waiting outside to be let in like some jilted lover. No, if Steve wanted to talk he would have to come to _him_. 

Sam walked to his car parked up the street because Steve's building didn't have tenant parking. Sam hated that, but Cap didn't even own a car. He'd rather ride the train like he was just a civilian, and only sometimes the motorcycle. Sam knew it was only a matter of time before Tony would put an end to that; pleading enough for Steve to move in with him until the man would finally give in. Just thinking about it now, though, the guilt ate at Sam. What if _he_ ruined that for them. 

Steve was certainly enjoying Tony's company well enough. They only began dating two and half months ago. Something about the Ultron battle brought them closer. But with the way Natasha tells it, it started way before that, during the battle of New York with Loki's alien army. With Stark practically sacrificing himself to save the city. 

How Natasha got the inklings of the two men having some sort of attraction to one another, no one else had guessed that. That was probably because Tony and Steve were literally fighting _all_ the time. But Natasha was a super spy so she had to know things about everyone. Sam was okay with that because he trusted her.

But Steve was the best thing that Tony was blessed to have after he and Pepper split. She and Tony are still close friends and she loves Steve, so it was a stable relationship between all of them. No hard feelings. Yeah, Sam hoped he hadn't ruined all that for Steve. Cap was lonely even before Tony had the break up Pepper.

Sam suspected that there was more to Steve's and Bucky's relationship than what the man was telling him. Maybe Steve felt that Sam wouldn't help him in the search for Bucky if he knew that Steve was or had been in love with him. But Sam would never do that to Cap, at least not then. It would be fucked to put Steve in a position of having to choose between someone he loved from his past and someone he grew to love in the course of the last few years. 

Ugh. Sam felt like a bag of genital warts pondering about that, which snowballed into a replay of the horrible things he said to Cap. He could have acted with a bit more class, but Steve had brought Sam's wrath down on himself. And now? 

Now all Sam wanted was to forget about the lot of them.

Rape or any manner of sexual assault wasn't something to just casually accuse someone of when you didn't have all the facts. Sam's stomach clenched at the thought. Was Bucky in control of himself or not? What did that mean for Sam when he, himself, was into it, even though he thought he was dreaming. 

Did he lead Bucky on, causing him more confusion? Him washing Bucky's hair or tucking the man in to sleep; were those simply innocent touches or an ingrained response for Bucky, where psychical contact meant either pain or performance? Was Bucky really that turned on by him or did Sam turn something on inside Bucky where the man felt that he needed to perform sexually? Who was present in Bucky's body at that time; was it The Winter Soldier? The _real_ Bucky Barnes? Or, god forbid, the child-like version of him. Please, don't let it be the latter.

Sam felt disgusting just thinking about it. He was teetering on edge of nausea before ultimately vomiting on the sidewalk. He didn't bother to look at the remnants of his mother's meatloaf mixing with the grime of Brooklyn; Cap's words forever tainting the city for him. 

Getting into his car, he rested his forehead against the steering wheel for just a moment. He felt like shit warmed over but he knew it was for the best to put some distance between himself and the team until he could figure shit out. 

With a shaky hand, he turned on the ignition and drove off and hoped he could beat the city's morning traffic.

 

 

 

Tony sat on Steve's couch facing Bucky, who was now sitting in the recliner. Any hostility that had been in the room, half left out the door with Sam. The other half was burning bright in Bucky's eyes. Tony doesn't think he should be angry with Bucky but his timing was less than perfect. Dramatic appearances and all that. 

Tony was light years away from being an idiot. He knew about Rogers' crush on his super hot best friend. The long hair certainly favored him. But with Bucky showing up now, when Steve is _finally_ letting Tony in, in more ways than one, mind you; Tony can't be at fault in hating him. Just a _little_ bit. 

He listened to Steve leave voice mail after voice mail for Sam, apologizing and trying to explain himself. Tony thought that was fair. Steve _should_ do that unquestionably. But that was the thing. He never thought Rogers would be blinded by his, let's say, _extreme_ level of devotion to Bucky that he would throw Sam under the bus. Sam had every right to lay it on Steve like that. 

But it was that nagging little part in Tony's beautiful brain. The one that constantly told him he'd never be good enough for Steve. The one that said he'd never amount to the handsome and brave Sergeant Bucky Barnes. 

He had those thoughts about Pepper too. She was the best thing Tony had in his life after Obadiah Stane's betrayal. He had Rhodey and Happy too, sure, but Pepper was everything Tony believed he could never have. Someone he knew that couldn't be bought. Someone with a backbone who would tell him no and never go back on their word. Someone who would tell him the truth and not just what he wanted to hear. It made Pepper all the more captivating. She still is.

Yet, after the entire Mandarin situation, she was more than done with the whole super hero business. 

And so, here he was, in Steve's apartment, trying to be there for him. Trying to show him that _he_ could be the best thing in Steve's life now. Was that selfish? Tony didn't want to steal Bucky's thunder, but he also wasn't going to let Bucky steal Steve from him either.

So it was a welcomed revelation when Bucky told Tony that he only wanted Sam. Tony certainly was ready to take that at face value. Tell the two men that he would pay for their wedding if need be. But something _was_ wrong with Bucky. It was the way he said it. Like a puppet on a string. Like he was trying to convince himself that he meant it. 

Tony knew about HYDRA's methods of brainwashing. He read the files Natasha gathered page for page. But there was probably a lot more detail left out; could be a simple ' _reading between the lines_ ' type of thing. Or it could be that Natasha was only given enough information from her sources' sources that would placate Steve's search for The Winter Soldier, turning his eye away from something much bigger. 

Tony was too tired for this. The fall of S.H.I.E.L.D and Ultron was enough stress that could last a lifetime. Why couldn't he just take Steve to one of many of his private islands? Sip mimosas and rub each other down with sun tan lotion. 

But somebody's got to save the world. It's what they signed up for. Tony would never regret that. But he could still complain. His current complaint being the man sitting across from him.

“So, what's the story, morning glory,” Tony crossed one leg over the other, folding his hands on his lap. “Got any more confessions to make? You and Wilson, huh? Did you to hit it off in the bathtub or was it a ' _the way to a man's heart is his stomach_ ' sorta thing, hm?”

Bucky was silent but it didn't discourage Tony, actually he _preferred_ it. “Nice poker face, remind me to take you to one of my casinos.”

There's nothing behind Bucky's eyes that lead Tony to believe he didn't register his presence, just contained anger. Yeah, something was definitely going on somewhere inside that mind of his. Weird. It was also odd that the man didn't immediately follow Sam Wilson out the door. At least to finish what left the mess that stained his pajamas pants. Tony didn't like the little printed Ironman faces tacky with Bucky's spunk. Tony _gave_ those pajamas to Steve.

He heard rustling in the bedroom, but still maintained eye contact with Bucky, “Honey, when you're done singing odes to Wilson, can you bring me my phone?,” Tony called out to Steve.

Finally, when Steve joined them, Tony didn't like the disheartened look on his lover's face. Steve's doesn't even look at him when he sits on that couch, his eyes are red-rimmed and puffy. He even sniffles. Tony thought Steve was pretty even when he cried, and it never happens when Steve's with him, of course; but with Wilson exposing old wounds Steve had tried to bury, it was inevitable. And now Steve may have lost his relationship with Sam. Tony hoped that wasn't the case; that they _could_ reconcile.

Steve handed Tony his phone and had gone to pull away but Tony took his hand in his own. Steve accepted the contact. Tony hoped that Steve wasn't too put out of commission because what he was about the do next would probably be dangerous. No, it definitely _would_ be dangerous. There is 200-pounds of super soldier sitting adjacent to them. A man who didn't know who he was and was _surely_ not in control for himself. Once again, only Tony could take on the burden of being the smartest person in the room. 

Tony doesn't miss the way Bucky shifts upon seeing the phone in his hand. The phone let out a single beep confirming what Tony had thought in the first place. 

Here's the thing about old technology, no matter how state-of-the-art it was first thought out to be, it's still dated and can be easily outdone by its superior, higher tech designed models, i.e, Tony's phone. Tony didn't come to Steve's doorstep just to celebrate Bucky's perfectly timed homecoming and have amazing, gloriously hot super-sex with Steve. _Five stars, definitely recommend_. 

No, he came because he knew that HYDRA would have back-ups for their back-ups and Bucky was a walking, talking hard drive. 

HYDRA _just_ couldn't stop beating a dead horse. Tony felt bad for the man, but he wasn't about to let Bucky kill them. 

Tony swiped right on the phone screen and gave it a double-tap with his thumb, grimacing as a patterned beeping chimed fast in succession. He clinched Steve's hand in warning. Steve is giving Tony his classic confused look. But Tony didn't have time to explain, Bucky was already on his feet, his face is _murderous_.

“You know, Barnes, I get it. And we're definitely here to help, but like I said, I gotta make it hurt.,” Tony tossed the phone towards the other man and it hit the floor with a thud. 

And Steve _finally_ gets it, allowing instinct to take over as he flipped the couch over with the force of his back and legs. He and Tony tumble in a heap on the other side of it while the explosion goes off and Bucky goes right through Steve's floor. 

Tony did his research. No one lived below Steve. 

“Tony what're--,” Steve began, but Tony was already up on his feet and man-handling Steve towards the door, grabbing the Steve's shield on the way out. Conveniently placed there, like Steve would forget it or something. Cute. 

Steve happened to look back at the hole blown through his living room floor with smoke and carpet fluff billowing in the air. Bucky was climbing out of it, his hair layered with remnants of the blast and his pajamas are chalked with dust. He has a few scrapes that bleed but he isn't stopped by it. Their eyes meet and Steve only sees The Winter Soldier now. 

Tony pulled him harder and they both make a run for the stairs. Steve's brain is going haywire, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Bucky wasn't like that when he first came to them. He wasn't that way with Sam. But how could he really know; he left Sam to tend to Bucky. 

Steve felt like a coward after getting told off by Sam. The man was right. All Steve saw in Bucky now was a reflection of his guilt. Steve felt even more shame that he was with Tony now; full of regret of never having gave Bucky a chance. And those thoughts weren't in Tony's favor either. Everything was going wrong now, just when he thought it could be put right now that Bucky returned. Bucky, who was now actively trying to kill them. 

They make it down to the small lobby but The Winter Soldier was already bashing through the glass of double door entrance. It was highly probable that he took Steve's fire escape down in order to catch up with them so fast. And he is nothing but.

He is non-stop in his run and hits Steve with the full force of his body. Steve imagined that if he could put that hit into words, _freight train_ would be the best description. Bucky looked a bit smaller from the last time they had fought but he still is flanked with raw power and strength. 

The Winter Soldier sends Steve flying backwards toward the elevator, chasing his path and doesn't stop until he is fully on top of him. He head-butts him before Steve could put his shield back up for defense. The crack of their heads echo in the lobby and Steve feels his brain rock with the force. It dazes him and he feels the rush of blood carry down his nose just before his healing factor plugs it up.

The Winter Soldier raises his metal fist, going to cave in Steve's face, but Tony is suddenly there, ambushing him from behind. Tony traps him in a head lock, holding on tight as the other man bucks backwards to get him off. The metal arm careens back, grabbing the meat of Tony's shoulder and flinging him across the room. 

With the assassin distracted, Steve arches his back with enough force to knock the man off balance, sending him tumbling forward. Steve gets to his feet, running over to Tony who was slow to stand, groggy from the other man's attack. Civilians start pouring into the lobby, curiosity and courage getting the best of them. 

“Get back!,” Steve hollered, waving his arm to get them away. Some of them ran off but the stragglers were pulling out their cell phones, some were probably taking videos and hopefully others were calling the police. Steve thought that after all the aliens, sleeper cell terrorists, and evil android attacks they would be more cautious. This generation was _strange_.

Steve hid Tony behind his shield as he watched The Winter Soldier get to his feet. “Bucky, you gotta fight this!...Whatever's going on, you can fight it. You did it before! They don't control you anymore! You don't have to do this!” 

Steve is pleading, and Tony doesn't have the time for it. Steve just doesn't want to believe his friend definitely _wants_ to kill them. But Tony can see that the assassin is tired, a little hurt, and extremely angry. _Hulk, eat your heart out._

And then, a welcoming crash hits their side of the building, startling Steve and the nosy passersby partaking in the show. From the rubble is one of Tony's Ironman suits. It's second hand controlled by F.R.I.D.A.Y and when it stalks over to them Tony leaves Steve's side to meet it, allowing it to encase him in its protective and _much needed_ offensive shell. 

“I'll take it from here, Cap, get these people outta here. As much as I love an audience, I'm not about to give him leverage.” Tony thought hostage situations were _boring_. Even in movies.

Steve looked torn, but he nods and goes off to coral the people back to safety on the streets. Police sirens were wailing some distance away. Tony had to wrap this up quickly. With cops, there came a lot of paper work.

He was ready for it when Bucky charged at him. They are both sent flying against the back wall but they don't blast through it. Tony makes note of the other man's dwindling strength. He then brings his elbow down hard on Bucky's back but the man doesn't relent. 

The assassin's metal fingers dig into the catch of the armor just underneath Tony's armpit. Tony feels the chest plate start to buckle as The Winter Soldier tries to rip it from him. He's trying hard to get to the fleshy body Tony was very fond of as was Steve. Tony already had one scar on his chest, he didn't care to have another. 

Warnings sound off inside the suit. 

“Sir, we're at 20% damage. Should I fire counter measures?,” the lovely voice of F.R.I.D.A.Y. rings in Tony's ear. 

“Hm, a little offense to diffuse the situation. Go ahead and set phasers to stun.,” Tony commands, raising his arm and catching Bucky's metal one as he tried to slam down a punch to the suit's head. 

The repulsor beam shocks Bucky and his body seizes violently. Tony was kind of glad the man _was_ a super soldier because the electric current was strong enough to make bacon out of regular men. Tony just hoped it was also strong enough to destroy the tech inside the arm to render it useless. 

He sent Bucky flying to the other side of the room, the crack of the man's skull can be heard when he hits the wall. The assassin isn't knocked out cold, which is _highly_ disappointing, but he struggled to get to his feet, giving F.R.I.D.A.Y. time to analyze the status of his metal arm.

Soon, New York's finest come bustling through the broken doors, guns drawn, with Steve trailing behind them. 

“Tony! Are you okay?!,” Steve sounds panicked, coming to the other man's side, eyes widening at the indents on the side of Tony's suit in the shape of a hand print. Okay, maybe the metal arm _was_ state-of-the-art. Tony, being the genius mechanic that he is wanted to dissect it.

“Feelin' like a bruised peach in here, but other than that...,” Tony trailed off, bringing his armored hand to rest on Steve's shoulder. Tony didn't like to be the source of Steve's worries but look he was giving him was endearing. He liked that look. 

“Sir, the arm is hard-lined with several tracking devices, two of which are still operating.,” F.R.I.D.A.Y informed. "Opposing damage at 77%."

And that was what Tony had previously thought. Bucky was a plant. Or more like a present from the last remaining bits of HYDRA still unaccounted for.

How simple it was to bait Steve into letting his guard down and welcoming Bucky with open arms. Tony was a little bit ire with himself for not disclosing this with Wilson and Steve earlier; but how could he do that without alerting the enemy that he was onto them? And he wanted to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt. Tony didn't know how much of what Steve had told him about his friend was all an act. Tony hoped it wasn't. He hoped that Bucky _did_ come to them for help.

“Alright, Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers, we'll take it from here,” called one of the officers as the others kept their guns trained on Bucky who was on his knees, breathing heavily and bleeding from his nose. He looked confused and maybe a bit scared. 

Tony could almost feel Steve's pain upon seeing his friend in such a state. But these officers didn't have the means of containing The Winter Soldier. Bucky had to come back to the Avengers tower with _them_. 

“Not an option, sorry guys.,” Tony moves to subdue Bucky but a female officer stepped in front of him. And her eyes are hard and cold. 

“This man is a wanted fugitive, _we're_ taking him in.,” she definitely sounded like she was in command. 

Tony looked at her badge, reading 'G. Daniels'. And like a good AI, F.R.I.D.A.Y scans each officer at once including the one in front of him. “Sir, these officers are not registered in the NYPD database.”

Ironman attacking police would be front page news. Tony only hoped that the reporters would uncover that the police in question were HYDRA plants. The female officer took notice of his hesitancy and used that against him. She takes out a weapon of her own and tossing away the standard-issued gun. Which of course couldn't compete with the armor Tony wore. But the thing in her hand is more than a little intimidating, it looks like a normal baton but then it lights up. The only way Tony can describe it is ' _lightsaber_ ' battle axe. It even makes a _swoosh_ noise when she tries to bring it down on his head. _Cool_.

Tony dodges her attack just barely and the axe's laser ends up splitting the armor of his arm. Dammit. This flight suit _just_ got an upgrade.

He uses that arm to try and get the weapon from her. But she is _scrappy_. She dodges him easily as if she knows all about his non-lethal fighting style. Tony wasn't in the business of hurting people but he wasn't going to let her and her lackeys get their hands on Barnes. 

He _had_ to promise Steve that much. And then he hears the sound of bullets hitting against Steve's shield.

_Now_ was a bad time to panic. Tony knows Steve isn't wearing the protective body armor that came with his Captain America uniform because the uniform was definitely still upstairs in his apartment. Tony has to get to him before a bullet can fly right between Steve's eyes.

Tony finally utilizes flight and jets into the air, landing a solid jab to the HYDRA agent's stomach. She is effectively disarmed. She's about five feet off the ground be for she drops, clutching her sides and groaning in pain. He kicks her weapon across the room. Tony flies to clothes-lines half of the other agents and Steve advances on the rest with his shield, bringing them down hard in a flurry of kicks and few uppercuts with the brunt of the shield. 

“He's getting away!,” F.R.I.D.A.Y alarms, indicating Barnes, and Tony just can't let that happen. He shoots another repulsor beam the man as he shuffles to the doors and Tony's aiming directly for the metal arm. The assassin dodges but not by much. Tony can hear the fizzle of more tech being damaged inside and F.R.I.D.A.Y. confirms it at 96%. Hm, close enough.

Before Tony or Steve can get to him, Bucky slips through the battered front doors. He takes off in a run, eliciting screams from the crowds that were blocked off from entering the building by more NYPD officers. Tony has F.R.I.D.A.Y run scans on them too. Just in case.

Shots firing can be heard and then comes more screams. Tony has F.R.I.D.A.Y listening in on police scanner radio, even if it's a little late in the game. “More police are still in pursuit, Sir, although they could still be compromised with HYDRA agents.”

“Figures. I'm sure they have their hand in just about every pot of public service jobs,” Tony said, putting conjoining electric cuffs on each of the agents to subdue them. “I can't imagine with the unions must be like.”

Steve jolts after Bucky but Tony stops him. “Hey, we need to plan ahead. HYDRA was sitting in your backyard, probably watching your every move for the past two years. This thing with Barnes was more than likely a plot to kill you and Wilson.”

Steve shook his head vigorously, “No, Bucky came to us, Tony, you should have seen his face. He was scared.”

“He was whatever HYDRA needed him to be,” Tony countered, opening his helmet so Steve could see how serious he was, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder. “I came over hoping that wasn't the case. But realize what he did to Sam. Does that seem like a man in control of his own actions? Hell, he probably _is_ confused, but this hold HYDRA has on him definitely runs deeper than you think.”

“So, what, you were going to kill Bucky? No, you _could_ have killed him!,” Steve is almost hysterical, pushing Tony's hand off of him. “You practically threw a grenade at him, Tony! What the hell were you thinking?!”

“Saving you, Rogers, and you're welcome by the way.,” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't see why Steve didn't recognize what was really happening.

“Steve, this is bigger than Barnes. This is an attack on us that precedes the all out war. HYDRA is coming back, and it's not just to say “ _hi_ ”. We need everyone on this now! Sam included. So go make nice while I round up everyone else.” Tony turned, his flight repulsors charging up to leave. He was more than a little done with Steve going _gaga_ over his former flame. It did sting a bit. He thought he was doing what was best, and he wanted Steve to see that.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y and I took care of the trackers in Barnes' arm. We might not be able to find him fast but neither will HYDRA.” Tony let Steve stew with that information before taking off, leaving him behind.

Steve was fuming, silent as he processed Tony's words. He didn't want to believe that Bucky was only there to kill them. Showing up and playing up his vulnerability just to get underneath their skin. And somewhere along the way, maybe Bucky was slipping up. Actually adopting his role as a broken man, wanting to be made whole again. 

Steve couldn't imagine who would be pulling at Bucky's leash forcing him to get back at his designated task. But he did know that someone gave orders to this small faction of HYDRA agents currently cuffed at his feet. They were the best shot into finding out who that was. Them, and certain other jailed double agent for HYDRA, currently in a maximum security prison.

The news crews filtered in now, abandoning caution upon seeing the detained agents. Steve ignored the microphones thrust into his face. He ignored their questions. He can only imagine what he looks like to the viewers at home. A hero who defeated the enemy, securing another victory for America, for New York, for the people. But Steve knew that he lost this one. 

He turned to look at the bound agents. Their fearless female commander glared at him, a snide smirk crossed her face.

“Hail, HYDRA.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is starting to become much more than what he is now. It's mostly Sam who feels that way. But to Sam, it's worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, so many life things happened. And then poor internet quality. But here it is. Thanks for reading and sticking with it.

_'You've failed.” The voice is chiding in it's tone, mocking him. The Asset knows he is to receive punishment. He accepts that. He should want that. They made him want it._

_'Explain how you failed.,' the voice orders._

_The Asset doesn't hesitate. 'Stark figured it out. He knew everything. He---,'_

_The voice interrupts, bellowing loudly, 'NO! You jeopardized this mission as soon as you got the idea to bed Sam Wilson! You were careless! Telling them you wanted Barnes should have been enough to throw them off course but no, you couldn't even make them believe it, even with your whorish actions, you pathetic idiot. Witless son of a bitch. Tell me how you even got the idea to go after Wilson in such a manner.'_

_The haze of darkness, like smoke, twines around him. The Asset can never see the the face of the voice, only the man shaped shadow of it, but he couldn't help but feel the familiarity._

_The Asset doesn't have an answer, none that would please the voice. But he knows why. Wilson made him want things he had long forgotten to have wanted for himself. Sex meant either punishment or performance with HYDRA. His many handlers over the spanning decades took advantage of their control over him. So too the voice, even if The Asset didn't remember the face of him. The voice did the worst of it._

_They would wipe The Asset believing that he wouldn't remember such torment. Sometimes he wasn't wiped at all. The Asset didn't like that. But he wasn't supposed to have an opinion about it. Just do as he's told. No one cared if he enjoyed it or not._

_Yet Wilson compromised him. The Asset shouldn't have wanted the man. But he wanted everything Wilson could give him. Something in the man's smile, his kindness, broke something in The Asset. And now the voice was forcing him to seal it up again. Prickling fear lingers in him from the anger in that voice. Yes, he needed to be punished._

_'I should make you slit your own throat.,' the voice says, chuckling. 'But, you still have use. To destroy yourself would be to destroy all we have accomplished. We are almost there. HYDRA will rise again and cleanse this world. It will be ours. You have to see that too. You have do your duty.'_

_The Asset nods. The voice was right. He had to follow orders regardless of the punishment._

_'Now go find Sergeant Barnes and kill him. The boy, too.,' The voice commands. 'Destroying them completely is the only way you can reach your full potential. The boy is smart, he's proven that. You can't allow him to aid Barnes. No matter how many times it takes to stamp out your weakness, it must be done. Only then can we move on; where you can be the only one in here. With me.'_

_Once again the Asset submits, turning to go fulfill his mission, and yet the voice comes at him again, rolling the black fog trailing his feet with its breath as the man formed shadow is enveloped in the darkness it maintained._

_'After you have dealt with Barnes and the child. Find Wilson. You know what to do.'_

 

Sam is woken up by the smell of his mother's cooking. His stomach clenched and rumbled at the scent. There was a crook in his neck once he sat up, accompanied by an ache in his back. His twin-sized mattress is definitely too small for him, but he slept their anyway. He looked around at his childhood bedroom. Not much has changed. He wondered if his mom was too nostalgic to get rid of his things. The Captain America posters and figurines mock him. He got up to inspect them. 

He's thrown back to a time where he was deemed the coolest kid for having the full set of Captain America and his Howling Commandos. His eyes wander over to the Bucky figurine. The toy doesn't do the man justice, but Sam can't help but feel a little fondness over it.

He felt foolish but he stuck the toy in his front jeans pocket. He headed downstairs, pausing only for a moment to see his mother move like a hurricane through the kitchen. Along side her is one of the four boys she currently fostered. Sam calls them his brothers all the same. 

Back in the day, his mother and father ran the local corner store just below their apartment. The small two bedroom Sam grew up in. Connected on the side of their modest building was a office flat his father hollowed out to become his church. Sam can still hear zeal of his father's voice, preaching the word of God. Sam remembered how he use to fall asleep in the back pews as a kid. He remembered the elder ladies of the church offering him lint covered candies they found at the bottom of their purses.

When Sam was sixteen, his father got gunned down during a botched robbery at their store. Some young punks trying to play gangster. For the longest time Sam regretted not being there. Not only to help defend his father but to help his mother through her grief. Sam just became someone else. 

He got into whatever trouble he could find. Dealing and stealing. He fought just about everyone who looked at him wrong. He made his mother's life hell a lot of the time. He was that way up until the teens that killed his dad were sent off to juvenile prison. A place Sam would end up if he didn't stop playing the petty criminal, his mother told him. 

So Sam let go of all the people who kept him in the streets. He decided to take his father's advice to join the military. Not to counter his sexuality, as much as his father had hoped, but to learn how to be a person again. He enlisted and not even a month after his 18th birthday, he was shipped out to boot camp clear across the country. And his mom, being wise as she is, didn't stop him. And during his time there, discipline and structure became second nature to him, as well as the need to help people. _To save them_.

Though Sam and his father had their differences, especially when there were heated conversations about his sexuality, he never once wanted his father out of his life. But his father's murder was just enough to extinguish his belief in God. Although, with today's world, with aliens and Norse mythology having been truth all along, who knew what was really out there. 

Sam joined the rest of the kid's at the dining table and they greeted him with excitement. Sam felt cheesy for being so adored by them. He was proud that the felt happy to be apart of The Falcon's family. They all ranged from ten to seventeen, with only two being actual siblings, the twins. 

He was glad his mother didn't have to be alone. Even more so when she took on the task of converting his father's church into a modest group home, half shelter for young men with no where else to go. She helped many over the years, with only but a few slipping back into old habits. But Sam had no doubt that she would welcome back those individuals with open arms. She always did for _him_.

Once lunch was finished and the boys took off to do whatever kids did nowadays, more than likely to keep out of sight until his mother called them for dinner. She joined him at the table, with two coffees in her hand. She passed one onto him and took the opposite seat. Sam couldn't help but feel a little bit nervous at the concerned look on her round face. 

“So you come strollin' in at all hours in the morning with a sad look on your face, tellin' me you don't wanna talk about it.,” she said with a little bass in her voice, clearly trying to hold back her temper. She was well known in the community for that. No one stole from her corner store anymore. “So we gonna talk about it now.”  
Sam nodded, knowing it rude of him to blow her off that morning, taking refuge in his childhood bedroom without so much as a 'hello' to her. He acted like a pout-faced teenager the way he stomped his way upstairs and slammed his bedroom door. 

“It's just...,” Sam trailed off, wondering how he could make what happen sound not in the least bit embarrassing.

His mom cleared her throat loudly, insisting that he get to the point.

“Well, what had happen was...this guy,” Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “This guy Cap knows stopped by for a visit when we had just finished up with dinner and---,”

“Did he love the meatloaf?,” she interjected, her face lighting up because she already knew the answer.

“He almost ate the entire thing, I barely got any.,” Sam recalled fondly, and his mother smiled with triumph. Sam then began to wonder how much of the story he could leave out to keep his mother's love for Steve intact. But then again, Sam could never lie to her. She always knew when he was lying.

“Okay, okay, continue,” she said, bringing the cup to her lips and sipped the coffee, looking smug.

Sam only gave her a half smile of his own, “But...this guy, though, he's...,” Sam pulled the little Bucky toy from his pocket and set it stand on the table. “Y'know, he's that guy.”

His mother's mug nearly slipped from her hand with some coffee dribbling onto the table and over her fingers, “Shit!,” she cursed, wiping herself with the apron she wore over her blouse. Setting her cup back on the table, she stared at the toy for a moment then back at Sam.

“The guy you been running around the world to find just shows up on Captain America's doorstep? You said you had intel on his whereabouts spanning several countries. How the hell does he just show up without anyone knowing?,” she asked heatedly.

Sam eyes widened. His mother did have a point, but he figured Bucky must have made it back into the  
US somehow. He certainly had decades time to perfect a forged passport if HYDRA made one for him as a base copy. But, it could also be true that he never left. Sam wasn't a hundred percent sure Bucky was still being controlled by HYDRA, an idea his mother was piecing together, but he did believe that some part of the man wanted his and Steve's help.

“You been looking for this man for damn near three years, and then he just happens to _appear_ when the two men most desperate to find him are in the same room together?” She sounded disbelieving.

“Maybe he was trying to find the right moment, he's...well he's not really himself from what I could tell.” Sam replied, turning his own mug on the table around in circles, watching the tiny Bucky wiggle from the movement. 

“Boy, I don't believe that as coincidence. This man's been tailin' y'all. Probably watchin' your every move, tryin' to find an in.” His mother stood up, “When you told me about that HYDRA nonsense I can't look at things that same anymore in this world. There was that Thor and Loki business, and that damn robot thing Tony made, so these are definitely strange times. But something like HYDRA, I didn't believe for one second that them fools were done. Gods, aliens, and robots, now those can be defeated. Your friends saw to that.” 

His mother looked almost fearful, “But those people. The monsters who were written into your school's history books? People like that never stop.”

Sam got up then, taking the toy Bucky in his hand and walking over to her. “Mama, this guy here,” he set the thing in her palm, “He is still just a man. Sure, he may still be as strong as Cap but he's still just a man.”

“And while those HYDRA guys are still scrambling around and spouting their inane beliefs backed up by no logical facts, this is a guy who fought against that. I know he can be reasoned with. I want to help him get to be that guy again or as close to him as we can manage. We owe him that much at least. But that doesn't mean I won't proceed with caution.” Sam said, rubbing the sides of her arms up and down in comfort, trying to quell her fears.

“I just don't wanna see you get hurt, baby,” she said, but Sam heard the unspoken ' _I don't want to lose you, too_.'

“You won't, Mama,” Sam can't help but promise her.

The pit-pat of feet hitting the carpet of the living room and then shuffling on tile came from behind them breaking their tender moment. All four boys were practically stumbling over each other and talking animatedly. Sam can barely make out what they are saying but his stomach quickly does a flip-flop upon hearing the words, ' _Captain America_ ,' ' _HYDRA_ ,' ' _Ironman_ ,' and ' _Winter Soldier_.'

“It's all over the news!,” the oldest boy, Jerome, said in disbelief. “Their fighting in Cap's apartment building!”

“You gotta help Ironman,” Cal, the youngest, was crying with big bleary eyes. The two sibling twins Dwayne and Terry, hold hands with the little boy. 

“Are the robot aliens coming back? Can we go with you this time?,” The twins' words tumbled over each other, so much excitement filling their eyes until a loud thump upstairs crashed over their heads, startling all of them.

Sam's mother clutched at him when he pulled away to investigate. “Don't.,” she pleaded, slipping the toy back into his hand. “We can all leave together.”

Everything was happening so fast. But luckily, Sam was a quick thinker in a crisis.

He turned back to her, bringing her into his arms for a hug. He kissed her forehead. “Take the boys and go. Head out of the city. I'll call.,” He is halfway up the stairs but he turned back to them. They all look anxious and afraid. Sam called out to Jerome, “Take care of them, man.”

Jerome gave him a determined nod, and soon they were all shuffling out of the front door as soon as Sam's mother grabbed her car keys. 

Sam waited to hear them drive away before continuing his ascent up the stairs. The door to his bedroom is still wide open, as he had left it. The sunlight breaking through his window is the only indicator that told Sam only one person was in the room, with the sun casting a shadow over the person's form. Sam didn't have to guess who it was. He didn't want to doubt that Bucky didn't know his home address. If HYDRA was truly making a comeback they _would_ do something underhanded like going to attack their enemies' families. Causing terror on a small scale and try to work their way back up.

Sam wasn't going to let that happen. If Cap and Tony were already fighting them he knew the other Avengers would be alerted and everyone's closest family and friends would be taken into protection. Although, if Bucky was going to kill him he sure was taking his time. 

Sam moved toward the doorway, letting his back hit the side wall, and he peeked inside. 

Bucky was kneeling on the floor, his breathing was labored. From what Sam could tell the man was definitely hurt and the metal arm was sparking and wisps of smoke flow through the silver plating. Sam entered the room, still cautious but he could see that Bucky couldn't get the jump on him from his position on the floor. The humid air flows into the room, rustling the man's blood crusted hair. He's dirty. There are scrapes all along the flesh of his body, from what Sam could see. Bucky was still in the Ironman pajamas and he had no shoes on his feet, which were covered with dirt and a bit of blood. How the man went unnoticed looking as he did, Sam did not know. 

Bucky looked up at him through the curtain of hair falling into his face and Sam felt that little ache all over again. He tightened his grip on the little toy in his hand. But which man was Bucky now? Sam found it hard to tell. He imagined that every Bucky would look the same when burdened with pain. 

Sam took a glance at the arm, its shine is lost among the dust and dark marks made from being hit by what Sam could assume were Tony's repulsors. Did the arm hurt like it was made of Bucky's own flesh. The jagged scar tissue along his shoulder where metal and flesh were fused together looked to be intact. Maybe it would if Tony had hit a little higher.

He was still looking up at Sam almost as if he was waiting to be acknowledged. So maybe Sam was dealing with The Winter Soldier now. 

“You don't look so good.” Sam said, taking a step to put the Bucky toy back with the set. “I...I'd help you but that only depends if you're here to kill me or not.” 

And Sam hated the little tremor of regret in his voice. He didn't want to be the one to take Bucky down. But no one was going to kill anyone in his own mother's home. Not for a second time. Not like his father. And Sam wasn't going down without a fight, that is, if it came to that. It was unlikely, though, given the state Bucky was in. And Bucky was quiet for a long moment. 

“No.,” Bucky affirmed, shifting back to sit on his haunches, “I...don't want to do that.” 

And it's almost comical in the way he said it, stoic and linear. A robot inside of a man. But Sam isn't laughing. He is shocked. It's strange even hearing The Winter Soldier talk let alone state that he _isn't_ going to murder him. The Winter Soldier having any sense of autonomy was, by all odds, a breakthrough. And maybe that was a good thing. At least for The Avengers. HYDRA, not so much.

Sam found himself believing the other man, but he definitely had questions. “I'm going to get a First-Aid kit for you, then we're gonna have a nice long talk.” Sam gestured at the metal arm, “Maybe get you some power tools for that. That is if you know how to make it stop doing, uh, whatever it's doing.”

The man looked down at his left arm as if wondering how it was still attached to him after what he had been through. Sam felt the same. Tony certainly did a number on it. 

“Yes. I can stop it.,” The Winter Soldier nodded, as his blue eyes drifted back to Sam. 

Sam wasn't going to get caught up in the little ache in his chest again. He couldn't believe that the man who tried to kill Tony and Steve, according to the boys' jumbled report, was the same man he helped bath and feed. The same man who climb on top of him in desperation to be touched so intimately. 

Sam shook that thought away as it had brought back memories of last night. Steve was going to try so hard to win his friendship back. Sam wouldn't be ready for that. He hoped he wouldn't forgive the man so easily even if he was Sam's childhood hero. And a tiny bit responsible for Sam getting to recognize his own sexuality growing up.

Sam left the room with a quick look at Bucky, who seemed to be staying put. He didn't actually believe that the man could disappear in the condition he is now. But The Winter Soldier was capable of anything apparently, including the onslaught of having multiple personalities. Sam only wondered how many, but that didn't matter, even having one inhabiting the same body as Bucky was one too many. The dissociation definitely came from the years of torture and something else Sam couldn't quite name. But he did have a vague idea. And he was ready to call for back up on that one. 

He grabbed the First-aid kit from his mother's medicine cabinet in the bathroom. He also took the extra strength Tylenol, still unsure if the man could feel pain from his wounds. But when Steve got hurt in his last tussle with The Winter Soldier, Sam was sure medication could help, at least a little. 

Sam quickly headed downstairs for the tool kit under the kitchen sink. He is slow to make his way back upstairs because he can't stop his heart from beating so fast. His mind kept replaying the events from last night. How good Bucky felt in his arms. How warm and solid his body was. How sweet and clean his hair smelled. The rough of his beard grazing over Sam's cheek. And his ass. So firm, but soft where it counted.

He swallowed audibly. He didn't know when he started caring for the other man. But it was long before Bucky first came to Steve's apartment. Maybe he felt connected to him somehow. He looked for Bucky for a long time. While Cap was off fighting the good fight in Sokovia, that was also a disaster, Sam kept on his own mission. It became less of a duty for Steve and more of a challenge for Sam himself. He wanted to find Bucky because he needed to. The man needed help and Sam was more than willing to give it to him. And somewhere in process, Sam started having feelings. Of course he didn't tell Cap that, but he also didn't want to admit it to himself.

He returned to the room, finding Bucky sitting on the bed. He was fiddling with the plates of his arm, pulling some of the wiring inside out through them. It was strange, almost like the man was grooming himself. He doesn't look up at Sam when he handed over the First-aid kit to him. He just took it and set it next to him, pulling it open and staring at the contents like he doesn't know where to start.

“The saline wipes to clean the wounds and the alcohol to clean the skin around it. Use the butterfly band-aids to keep everything that is splitting together and the regular band-aids for everything else.,” Sam instructed. 

It made Sam wonder if HYDRA just sprayed The Winter Soldier down and froze him, guessing he would just heal on his own if he were wounded. But that wasn't the case. The super soldier serum Dr. Erskine had given to Steve wasn't the same used on Bucky. Whatever botched concoction of the serum Zola and his other mad scientist buddies used on him was no where near close. Bucky still had a hard time fighting Steve. So they did have differences in strength. Maybe that was why The Winter Soldier was loaded with weapons and was _very_ capable with them.

Once Bucky was done cleaning himself up, Sam gave him the tool box next. The man uses a combination of things to help the arm stop its malfunction. Bucky pulled out a few more blackened and burnt wires before shifting the plates back into place. 

Bucky looked back at Sam as if he forgot the man was standing there watching. The Asset liked Sam's eyes on him. 

“We gotta get you to the Tower before HYDRA comes knocking at my mama's door. I'd fly you there but my wings are a one-man operation. You'd be too heavy.,” Sam said, keeping his hands in his pockets to not wring the feeling out of them.

“Besides, I'd attract too much attention flying there now with all the shit that has been going on.,” Sam said. “We're taking my car, so you're gonna need a disguise because I'm not gonna put you in the trunk.”

Bucky nodded, and followed Sam who crooked his finger. He is lead to the bathroom and Sam turns on the faucet of the shower, handing him a wash cloth. 

“We gotta make it quick so we can get to your face. That beard is at the end of its life right now.” Sam grinned, pulling out the shaving cream and disposable razor. It's bright pink and definitely one of many his mother coveted. But Sam could hazard a guess that Bucky wasn't about to be all for an electric one.

Sam turned his back to give Bucky his privacy as he stripped his ragged pajamas and stepped into the shower right foot first. And Sam pulled the curtain so Bucky, who didn't seem to care about it, could keep his dignity. 

The man stuck out his metal arm outside the shower as Sam filled and plugged the sink for fresh rinsing water. And as if The Winter Soldier could feel Sam's confusion he stated, “The water-proofing mechanism has been destroyed.”

It's all he said, and the only sound in the room is Sam's breathing and the running water of the shower.

The Asset is slow to step out, the water is nice and warm. Maybe a little hot. But he liked it. He felt like he would never be warm again. So this was a welcomed reprieve from Cryo. And the best part was that Sam was there. Sam, whose big hands handled him with care. Like he was worth something. The voice in The Asset's head is a dull echo. But he can hear the screaming. The Asset doesn't mind it. He could almost say he doesn't care. The punishment he would receive would be worth it if he could have this one moment with Sam.

Sam's back is to him when he stepped out of the spray. He is wet and naked and somewhat hard after thinking of all the soft touches Sam could give him. He can feel Sam's nervous energy as the man went and shut off the water of the shower. And when he turned back The Asset is there. 

He took Sam by the nape of his neck and kisses him roughly, his right hand tightening as he felt Sam begin to struggle. His left arm is useless but he knew he was stronger than the other man. The Asset also knew how to kiss, he had done it before, but that was way back when. The Asset didn't exist then but he was here now, relearning and reveling in all the senses that his handlers forced out of him. The Asset didn't know why he felt like crying. He didn't.

Sam protested, trying to push him away but the other man utilized his strength in all the ways that it counted at this very moment. He turned Sam with force, and Sam's front hit the sink.

Sam's mind is reeling from the onslaught of Bucky's attack. It felt equal parts good and was definitely bad. Sam groaned as he is man-handled by The Winter Soldier. He didn't want to say he liked it yet, but it was strange being a little turned on by it. Not many of his past encounters had enough strength to toss him around. Sam was rarely on the receiving end of things. He preferred to be top-side anyways. But Bucky rutting against his ass and biting the lobe of his ear is starting to let him see that the other side isn't so bad.

“Man, we...We don't have time for _this_.,” Sam said, trailing off in a moan as he rocked against the sink, his dick getting hard from the friction. It's almost uncomfortable and somehow makes him all the more harder. Bucky's entire front is wet and it seeps through the back of Sam's T-shirt. It's warm and all too nice. The wetness delved into the back of his jeans as Bucky continued to rut against him like a man possessed. The rough burn of the other man's beard is scoring the back of his neck.

The Asset staked his claim on Sam now. He turned the man to face him once more and kissed him with so much passion brought up from times long past. He wanted it bad. He was so hard it hurt as he rubbed against Sam's front now. It was _glorious_. 

Sam apparently is rendered speechless as he moaned into the other man's mouth. Bucky is definitely calling all the shots here. Sam didn't know how much more he could take. This was probably wrong, what they were doing given Bucky's history of not being himself. But The Winter Soldier is certainly in control this time. 

Their tongues sweep into each others' mouths, all slick and hot mingling together. And Sam can't stop moaning. His hand drifted down to Bucky's cock and it glided against him like velvet once he enveloped it. As soon as Sam touched him there, Bucky is coming. It's so fast and messy that Sam barely has time to know it actually happened.

The Asset felt the pulsing of his cock, letting Sam milk him through it. It was quick but The Asset was more that willing to do it again. And again. And Again. He laved at Sam's neck, biting him and kissing him. He moved up to Sam's jawline and bit and kissed him there too. The Asset opened his eyes, not even realizing he kept them closed. Next time, he promised himself, he would look at Sam as he came. The Asset wanted Sam to see what he did to him. Made him come undone just by his touch. Sam unraveled the layers of him and enjoyed each one. 

The Asset didn't even recognized his own face in the mirror. He cheeks had a blush that went all the way down to the middle of his chest. He was panting and his eyes were glossy, and maybe a little teary. The wet limp of his hair stuck to his forehead and caught onto his beard. He never looked so... _alive_. He cocked his head to the side, studying himself more closely, as he felt Sam's hand smooth up and down his back. The man's fingers catching onto every one of his healed scars and some of the bandaged fresh ones. It was more than comforting. It was too much.

Something shifted. The Asset was thrown back into the recesses of Bucky's mind. He could feel _him_ taking over.  
He gave Sam a look. He wanted to remember his face before–.

Sam still has Bucky's cock in his hand when he heard it. The sound of Brooklyn giving a his stomach a lurch.

_Bucky_ was now staring at him, confused and _very_ angry, “Who. The fuck. Are you?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has issues. Rumlow doesn't care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long over due. But thanks for reading!

_Bucky finally stopped the screaming. It was hard, but he knew the bloody stump of his arm was apart of him now. And he found out that if he didn't think about the pain, it gradually ebbed away into memories._

_The black smog filters around them still, but there is no masked man to be seen. Only but a voice that echos distantly from the shadows, Bucky doesn't try to make out what it's saying. He felt like he knew the voice was something bad._

_And the boy?_

_His child self seemingly ignores the voice all together. Bucky knows he needs to follow the boy's lead._

_'What do you remember?,' The boy asks, walking in circles around him, coming up to the middle of his waist. He doesn't look that old, but there is a maturity in his eyes Bucky understood, and that the boy was his key part in navigating the muddled mess of his mind._

_Bucky closes his eyes, trying to recall the events he experienced. Besides getting killed for the umpteenth time by himself._

_'I remember the smell of alcohol on my mother's breath.'_

_The boy stops his pacing and looks down at his feet sullenly. He isn't wearing shoes. Bucky remembers that too. Gifting his own shoes to his little brother. Bucky still wanted his brother to go to school, and you couldn't walk there in worn out and too-small shoes. Bucky just became the sole caretaker of the household because his mother's only baby was a brown glass bottle._

_'You...you're Jimmy. You're nine years old...,' Bucky feels tears come to his eyes but they don't fall. 'And you wanna just die because...because Ma stopped lovin' you.'_

_And he hates the way his voice trembles._

_Jimmy nods, he is glum but he still lets a smile break out across his face. 'Good.,' he says, going back to his pacing. 'And?'_

_Bucky opens his eyes, he feels himself bring about his own smile, 'They call you Bucky because half the guys 'round the block are named Jim or James. It sticks. You like it because it makes you feel like people cared about you. About knowin' who you were. They gave you that name.'_

_'Uh-hmm,' the boy reaffirms, seeming tired of his pacing and sits down, disregarding the black fog, folding his thin legs, waiting for Bucky to continue._

_'Eliza was two, Mary was five, and Benjamin was eight, and you had to take care of all of 'em.,' Bucky's smile falters._

_'You didn't mind it, though. You liked being needed. You went to school less, but still made Benny go. And the girls never got a chance. But baby Liz got a good fever, couldn't stop cryin'. Neighbors complained, I guess. Then there were Feds from the Children's Bureau swoopin' down on Mama, took us all way...,' Bucky, stoops down in front of Jimmy, adopting the boy's pose.'_

_'Guess, when Pa died, Mama's heart went right along with him.,' He continued. 'She never did get us back. Some neighborhood kids made fun of us, sayin' she skipped town with another guy. Got knocked up by him too. Others said she died with a bottle in her hand. But you didn't wanna believe them...but deep down, you knew one of 'em was true.'_

_Jimmy only sniffs, trying to seem indifferent. 'And then what happens?,' he asks again._

_'Then the girls...They were so cute, couldn't blame some up-turned nose, high society couple wantin' to take 'em away. All dark hair and blue eyes. Lookin' like little porcelain dolls...,' Bucky memory accelerates now._

_'Man, you held onto them so tight. Took two nuns to go and pry you kids apart. But after that's all you'll see of 'em, you can't help but wish 'em a good life. Where Mary could go to school too, and Liz not being sick all the time.'_

_'Benny got taken too. After a year in the orphanage. He'd get a new brother, a new Ma and Pa.' Bucky stares into the blue eyes of his childhood self. Jimmy has some tears streaking down his face but he doesn't make a sound._

_'And on your last night together, you were holding him, kissin' his little face. Tellin' him you'd see each other again. He held onto all night.,' “Bucky regret comes forth as a sigh as he continues, “And when you wake up, he's gone.'_

_Jimmy's shoulders are drawn inward, his head hangs low to his chest. And Bucky just wants to take the boy into his arms. Yet, he knew Jimmy wouldn't want that from him._

_They are silent for a long time. Jimmy is having his own deliemma of not having gotten a chance of ever knowing what his brother's and sisters' lives could've been like._

_Bucky never wanted to find out._

_He knew it would break his heart if the girls couldn't remember him if he showed up on their doorstep. He didn't want to feel the the guilt if he looked into his brother's eyes. He didn't want to see the betrayal there. He didn't want to imagine how his brother would look at him in accusations of why he didn't try harder to keep them together._

_Why Bucky had to look so much like Pa, making Mama love them less and less each time she got to the bottom of a bottle._

_But a light comes to Bucky's eyes and he reaches over and takes the boy by the shoulders._

_Jimmy perks up slowly, mirroring the smile Bucky was giving him. Jimmy knew _this_ was the best part of this story._

_'And them we meet Steve,.'_

_Bucky is about to continue but the voice is getting closer to them and the fog rises in it's murky black haze. There is a shift in their world. A shift in Bucky's mind._

_The voice speaks like a curse but Jimmy is instantly covering Bucky's ears with his small hands._

_There are numerous doors appearing next to the one Jimmy returns to when the danger lurks, when Bucky is being murdered all over again._

_Bucky is confused, the black smoke gets thicker but doesn't touch the doors._

_Bucky thinks he sees a shining barrier glossed over them. Like the glint of Steve's shield against the sun. Bucky could understand things more clearer, he felt that each door was a memory and many of them stood their ground against the fog. His memories were untouchable by the darkness. Bucky is proud._

_The voice is louder now, spitting and hissing with malice, but is muffled by the boy hand's over his ears._

_Bucky hears none of it._

_'You're stronger now,' Jimmy says excitedly like they share a secret. He smiles wide as the words flow through Bucky's skin. 'Our connection is stronger. It's your turn to put the pieces together---put _us_ back together.'_

_The masked man, is coming towards them, and even with one arm, Bucky wants to beat the guy bloody. He wanted to protect Jimmy._

_The boy shakes his head vigorously like he knew all of Bucky's thoughts, and Bucky supposed he really did. They were both one another._

_'On the outside you won't remember this. 'The Voice' won't let you. It'll feel like a dream. But it has no control over me in here. And now that you can remember in here, it has no control over you here. You have to break its connection to the masked man too but you need help. We're not strong enough to do it on our own.,' Jimmy explains._

_The shift is sudden and jarring. Their whole world caves in._

_'You will have to try hard to remember this world on the outside!,' he says over the loud, harsh billowing dark clould that whips around them. 'You would want to come back, but you mustn’t, you need to get help! Or the masked man will be the only one left of us! Don't listen to 'The Voice'.'_

_Jimmy lets him go, and Bucky can feel himself falling. The last thing Bucky can see is his masked self holding a knife over the boy's head._

_Bucky calls out to him as he continues falling, reaching up with his right hand, trying to stop himself. To claw his way back to the boy._

_It all happens so fast, and the fog covers his view of both Jimmy and the masked man._

_And then Bucky blinks himself awake, forgetting all about it._

 

 

Steve waited in the small room. He sat on a plastic folding chair at a small bolted to the ground metal table. It's an interrogation room. Steve tried hard not to pay attention to the rusty color of dried blood at the tables corners. Even if the prison was maximum security, Steve didn't believe in torture for information. Some people can be reasoned with. Even the most terrible of people. Which is what brought Steve here. 

The door to the room is unlocked with a loud click, it's buzzed in as it slid open to reveal and officer and the person Steve was apprehensive in talking with, but he knew it needed to be done.

Rumlow looked horrible. The burnt scars on his face had healed into a marred angry red. It looked dry and a bit waxy, hard even. But Steve met the man's eyes regardless. It didn't matter now. Their, what Steve thought was a respectful working relationship, didn't matter now. None of it was truth. 

The guard pushed Rumlow into the room causing the man to nearly stumble. The guard looked smug while Rumlow still looked indignant. He grin was feral towards Steve. “Didn't know you'd be my conjugal visit. Gotta make it quick though, I got better things to do.” 

Steve kept a blank face, he didn't want to let the other man that he could get one over on him. “This isn't a social call, Rumlow.”

“No, shit, Rogers,” the man sneered as his legs were being chained to the ones that bottomed the metal table. The guard silently moved to his hands, pressing a button on the side of the armored cuffs around Rumlow's wrists. The magnetic pull forced him down onto the table that shook very little from his weight. 

He was set in awkward position until the guard kicked out the backside of one of the man's knees. Rumlow grit his teeth from the pain, not allowing Steve to see weakness in him. The guard then forced him down in the opposite chair with a hard pull on his shoulder. 

Steve almost didn't care but he felt wrong for not. He knew what his objective was here right now, but his mind still lingered on what he said to Sam. 

The man wasn't taking his calls. Steve couldn't blame him. He knew he should have never said it. It was a disgusting accusation. Baseless even. _Bucky_ was on top of Sam, not the other way around. Sam was the best guy he could've ever met in this new world, and Steve knew ruined it. Maybe they could salvage something of the friendship but it would definitely be a challenge. Sam was in control of that one.

Steve didn't know how he could be so stupid. And after the fight with The Winter Soldier and the argument he had with Tony afterward, Steve was unsure how Bucky could make him act like a fool after all these years apart. Steve didn't want to think he was still in love with Bucky, but it was definitely something there. Something unresolved.

And here he was now, doing this. Try to break information from Rumlow without actually breaking him. But not for stamping out the rest of HYDRA for the good of the people, but doing it for _Bucky_. Steve felt so guilty and selfish. 

He was _sick_ with it. 

“Who pissed in your Cheerios, Cap? You just wanna see my pretty face, huh,” Rumlow said snidely, “See all the good work you'd done for the sake of all America? Fuck you and stop wasting my fucking time.”

The guard who stood in the corner whipped out a baton, and stuck it deep into Rumlow's side, shocking him. Rumlow hollered with pain. 

Steve quickly leaned in, nearly out of his seat, “Stop it,” he commanded. He didn't care for the man but he wasn't about to have him unconscious without giving up any intel.

The guard only smirked but receded back into his corner. 

Rumlow was breathing hard from the attack, his hair falling into his face, dragging on each ragged gulp of air. “Worried about me, Steve. If that's the case...you should take me with you,” the man smiled.

Steve rolled his eyes, leaning back firmly into his seat. “Play nice, or I'll be the one bringing the pain.”

But the other man actually laughed at him. Steve tried not to blush with embarrassment, with him making such a statement he couldn't embark on, only for the sake of what he believed to be his honor. Yet that bit of him was certainly broken now. 

However, the morbid humor of it all got Rumlow talking.

“So tell me what this is about? It's Barnes, isn't it. Heard about you and that tin can fighting him.”

Steve held in a sigh, might as well get it over with, “Yeah, him and friends of yours. What is really going on, Brock? Are these agents rouges or are they actually HYDRA?” 

He knew that putting the world first was the right thing to do. He knew Bucky had to be put in second place, but Steve surely wouldn't let him stay there. _Couldn't_ let him stay there. He would try to do both things. Save the world and Bucky.

But if it came down to the wire, Steve was still unsure of what he would really do. But part of him--the deepest, darkest part of him—knew what he'd rather have.

Rumlow shrugged, “Either way, HYDRA will always be there. You cut off---.”

Steve dispelled his thoughts upon hearing the other man. “Dammit, Brock, if you finish that sentence, I will make the other side of your face match the one you got now.” Steve's anger was sudden. His hate for himself was quickly being loaded on to Brock. Even more so, when he already had actively hated the other man.

“Oh, okay, okay,” Rumlow is chiding in his tone, “I actually believe you this time.”

The man leaned back in his own seat. Eyeballing Steve critically, “Yeah, I heard about those dumbasses that believe they are HYDRA. That red-haired bitch did more harm than good in releasing those files. She basically loaded up broken and angry people with ammunition because the bastards already had guns.”

“They had advanced weapons. This group,” Steve informed him, trying to milk more details Rumlow would definitely not give to him. Steve knew that, but he still had to try. “They were run by a woman officer. The weapons looked like the ones from the war.'

Rumlow gave a smirk of his own. It was a tell for sure. He knew what was going on. “I give you what you want and I would look like a fool asking for nothing in return.”

Steve stared at the man for a moment, there was nothing he could offer the other man, nor did he even want to consider doing that. To hell with Rumlow. “You get nothing but a peace of mind knowing you're doing the right thing for the sake of human lives.”

The man shrugged again, “The fuck I care about society? They didn't do shit for me so why do they deserve what I have. HYDRA taught me that. HYDRA taught Barnes that.”

Rumlow's burned face pulled into another conniving smile, “Taught him other shit too. You're boy was _nasty_. Beggin' for my cock in his hot ass. He was eager too. Wanted it all the time. From every agent on the team 'til his hole was gaping open and slopping out our come. Anything that came out, we made him eat it.”

The guard moved towards Rumlow again, ready to cattle-prod him again, but Steve held up an arm to stop him.

“Like I said, a peace of mind.,” was all Steve said, hoping his eyes could convey the importance of it all despite the man's cruel words.

Rumlow stared at him for a long time, in silence, trying to figure out what Steve's angle was really. Sure the fucking boy scout wanted to save the world from HYDRA again for a third time but there was something else lying under his seemingly calm exterior.

“It _is_ Barnes, am I right? You're here for _him_ ,” Rumlow could almost laugh, but he just kept on smiling. Playing Steve like a fucking fiddle was the best thing he had the pleasure of doing besides infiltrating S.H.I.E.L.D. so successfully. Dangling bits of information over Steve's pretty head, with him trying to catch onto every little thing Rumlow could say. “You don't give two good shits about saving the world this time. Heh, isn't that ironic. You trying to get me to save they world, but you would step over everyone else to get to _him_

He saw the tell in the down-turned corner of Steve's mouth, the very beginnings of a deep frown. 

“You found him and he's a fucking wreck and you wanna know what we did so your team of assholes can fix him.,” he grinned. “You fucking idiot. Should just kill the little bitch and put him out of his misery. Ain't no fixing what HYDRA did to him. What we _all_ did to him.”

“There's a another war coming and your sweet pal, Bucky, is the fucking lighter to the fuel.,” Rumlow continued. “But I'll give you this, who do you think came up with contingency plans? The smartest man in the room. Utilizing things the old HYDRA bastards could barely shit out of their tiny little brains.”

Steve's eyes widened a bit. He knew the answer but he didn't want to say it, as if the man he once knew would appear before him. Like a ghost.

He got up out of his chair and headed for the door. Fuck Rumlow. And he left without hearing the other man scream manically at him as the door quickly slid shut, locking in place.

“Yeah, run away you fucking pussy! We're comin' for you! The world is ours and you won't stop us! Barnes is _ours_!”

Rumlow eased back in his chair, barely realizing he tried to get out of it. He motioned for the guard to let him loose and take him back to his cell.

The guard undid the magnetic field trap of the cuffs and unlocked the chain securing Rumlow to the table. And as he did so, he said quietly, “You...you think he believed me, sir?” The man had every right to sound nervous because punishment was due.

Rumlow slammed his foot down onto the other man's hand, satisfied upon hear the him cry in pain. He wished that he had his combat boots so he had enough force to break the little shit's hand. But the standard issue loafers would have to do in bruising it a bit.

“Next time, fucking turn the prod down, you almost killed me. You forget that I'm a fucking better actor than you. There was no goddamn need to play it up like that, asshole.” Rumlow hissed.

“Y—yes, I'm sorry, I got scared...,” the guard cringed away, whimpering like a whipped dog.

Rumlow just rolled his eyes, getting up from his chair, allowing the simpering man to chain his feet back to one another. They exited the interrogation room and walked down the narrow hallway and back to his solitary cell.

“But it's starting now, isn't it, boss? _He's_ gonna lead us to victory right?”

“ _He's_ not gonna do a damn thing because he's dead, shit-stain. I'm gonna be calling the shots like I was meant to do once you get me out of this fucking dump and I get to Barnes.”

“Yes, sir, we're already working on that.,” The guard keyed in on the lock pad and the cell door slid shut.

“Work faster.” Rumlow seethed, sounding muffled through the door.

“Yes, Sir!,” the guard said, his quivering voice carried a bit of excitement, and he actually makes and army salute.

Dumbass.

“Hail, HYDRA,” he smiled all wide.

“Yeah, yeah, fuck off.” Rumlow said, and went to lay back down in his cot.

He closed his eyes, thinking about the pretty blues Barnes had. The way he would look at him. The way he would _submit_ to him.

Rumlow, turned over in his cot, working his prison jumpsuit open to jack off. It's all the fun he had in this place. His memory of Barnes was all the fun he had. Doing banal shit like killing for HYDRA was nothing in comparison. He didn't feel anything for the other man but pure lust. He got hard just thinking about his soldier covered in the blood of his victims. He got hard just thinking about how he made the man suck him off in front of the corpses. Good times.

Rumlow came all to quick. He wasn't a young man, not like Barnes, so he would have to wait until he could go for another session.

But he does take the tiny plastic zipper catch of his suit, bringing it close to the wall, and marked down another line signifying days past. He smirked at his meager handy work.

He knew it won't be long until he would see The Asset again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky can see something in Sam that's worth more than his weight in gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long over due, but I hope you enjoy it. Thanks and review please. all comments, questions, and suggestions.

“Get your hand off my dick,” Bucky---the _real_ Bucky---said. His face was a teeming red, either from embarrassment, rage, or a dangerous cocktail mixture of both, Sam was sure of it and damn near afraid.

And he is strictly mortified. What he thought Cap had said was just the man being a disrespectful idiot, so Sam was thinking he, himself had done something tying that for the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

Allowing _The Winter Soldier_ to fall for him. Or something like it...

The seemingly autonomous decision made by The Winter Soldier trying to meld himself into him was certainly far worse, in a sense that Sam _could've_ fought him off. Fighting against one working _super human_ arm is much easier than fighting against a weaponized _mechanical_ one. The metal arm looked to be supremely damaged to the point where Bucky could no longer move it. And Sam would've thought that had been a good thing considering the history of The Winter Soldier using that arm, but nothing about this situation seemed _good_ at this particular moment.

Sam glanced from the metal arm and down at his hand on the other man's cock. It's fucking beautiful, still leaking and half hard and growing again in his hand. So now he knew that super soldiers had a solid refractory period.

Sam let go, almost reluctant to do so despite his astounding embarrassment. He is _still_ hard in his own jeans.

He should've just left with his mom and the boys. And he mentally prayed to anyone listening that they were still safe. He should've just left Bucky to complicate someone else's life. Leave him to inhabit someone else's _heart_. This probably could've been Cap's burden and surely the man would have took that on whole-heartedly.

But The Winter Soldier chose _him_. Bucky's child self chose _him_. And whatever feelings Sam had for the other man remained there, even though Bucky was virtually a stranger to him.

Yet, Sam would take Bucky as is, if it didn't mean the man would probably start hurting people again. Sam saw the quick of the draw Bucky had over Tony and Steve when the man thought that Cap was _actually_ going to hurt him. The Winter Soldier had protected him. _Him_ , of all people.

Bucky, whether he knew it or not, chose Sam. And Sam would be damned if he didn't feel just a tiny tug of pride over that. If The Winter Soldier was wanting to protect him then he could possibly help protect other people instead of the bloody alternative.

Sam looked on at Bucky, seeing some kind of internal dilemma battling out on his face. Even from where he stood, about two feet away from him and in the doorway, Sam could tell that the man had no idea what was happening. Why Sam had _his_ come on his shirt. He flinched when Bucky's eyes narrowed in on him. His gaze was full of heat, and not the good, hot, passionate kind. He was blazing angry.

Bucky stared the other man down as he is too slow to shift away to take refuge by the open door. Bucky felt a little stupid trying to look menacing with come slipping down the ridges of his abs. 

Bucky didn't mind girls. He liked them well enough, liked how soft they were. How cute were their little moans. The smell of their hair all done up right before he musses it up after a night of dancing and drinking and a quick roll in the sheets. But the thing was, he wasn't even thinking of them at all by the time he gets inside them.

Bucky, really, _really_ , loved men.

And this man standing in front of him, with smooth, rich brown skin and matching doe-like eyes, it's just about enough to rev him up again. Bucky was angry about that. And from what he could tell from the come on the man's shirt, he knew it was his own. A tell tale sign that he liked what he and the man did together. _Very_ , _very_ much. That was another splash of fuel to the fire. God, how he wanted to rough this man up. But not in a way where they actually hurt each other. No, he was gearing for the opposite of pain right now. Bucky bit his tongue to stop from licking his lips. 

The problem, asides from Bucky's dick of betrayal, was that he had no idea who the man was. The guy was a stranger, even if Bucky could feel a little, nagging shifting around his brain that he actually known him from somewhere. The man's very name escapes him. 

He tried to think about how he got here but a sharp kicking pain fired inside his brain. It's enough to cause him to stumble forward, and on instinct, his right hand reached up to grasp the wall to avoid falling.

“Fuck.” Bucky groaned. He was slow to right himself but was coordinated enough to raise his hand to stop the other guy from coming to help.

And just avoid the onslaught of a major headache, Bucky actually _wanted_ to fuck the guy. _Again_. So keeping the man at far distance was the best course of action. But, honestly, Bucky could fuck anyone right now. And he's hurting for it, real bad. He somehow felt like it had been _quite_ a while for him. And astonishingly, the pain didn't kill his erection. It somehow made him a little harder. _What the hell?_

Sam watched with concern as Bucky balanced himself on the wall with his forearm, clutching his head with his hand. Sam hoped it wasn't a shift in personalities again. He needed the _real_ Bucky right now. Bucky probably would have some knowledge of what was going on. A clue into what this resurgence for HYDRA meant. But most importantly anything for Sam to go on that would help him.

His phone suddenly rang in his front jeans pocket, lighting up and singing an acoustic cover ' _I Believe I Can Fly_. Sure it was a bit too cheesy for him, but he loved it. Natasha was an expert in finding covers of songs online that he hated and he would eventually come to love them. So it was no surprise when he pulled out his phone and saw her number flash on the screen. He let it ring for a while too long, because he and Bucky are staring at each other. It's super awkward. But Bucky got right to the point in slamming the door in Sam's face.

Sam hoped that Bucky knew he didn't take advantage of him. Sam knew he didn't. But he felt like he should feel guilty about indulging The Winter Soldier's proclivities that involved ambushing him with sexual desperation. Sam wondered if they both were at fault. Well, not Bucky, of course. But The Winter Soldier was clearly acting of his own accord. Just thinking that was a telling notion about Sam's life choices. He should probably turn in his wings as a resignation letter from The Avengers. He didn't need his life to be this complicated.

And what if Bucky joined their little band of heroes? How weird would it be if Steve, who was probably still in love with his best friend, saw said best friend's one of two alternate personalities trying to crawl inside Sam's very skin, with Bucky possibly being okay with the idea, judging by the half chub that was still trained in on Sam's line of sight. Yeah, there was possibly no making up with Cap, were that the case. But who knew? It was too early in this fucked up situation to tell.

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath and answered the phone. The concerned, “Sam.” coming from the other line told him all he needed to know in what she knew. But he knew she was going to grill him for his side of the story. He just wondered whose story she had been told first. Tony's or Steve's?

“What the hell is going on, Sam?,” she sounds tired. And he heard a dinging sound over the line, signaling loudly for a stewardess. He knew she was coming back to New York on a red-eye flight from her stint in China, finding info and possibly more trouble from overseas factions of HYDRA.

“I have to hear from Tony, and you know how much I just _love_ talking to Tony, that Barnes is  in the US. Like, actually in New York and maybe actually on his way to hunt you down after fighting with Steve and Tony.,” she hissed in a hushed whisper.

“Yeeeah...I take it you saw the news too. I haven't but...I think we _do_ have a problem, and it's not just Barnes.,” Sam said as he pinched the space between his eyes. He worried at his bottom lip. He hesitates to tell her but he knew he just had to.

Unsurprisingly she waited for him to continue. Natasha had a steady patience about her, seeming to never, ever lose her head over a situation. But when it concerned her friends she was a woman possessed. Deadly to her enemies and far worse to people who went after the team. She was _awesome_. Sam loved her entirely and would watch her back as much as she would do for him and the others. She was irreplaceable.

Sam sighed heavily as he took a few paces away from the bathroom door, he can hear the water running but still had no idea what Bucky could be doing in there besides showering the mess he made of himself.

Sam tried not to think of the other man all wet and turning pink from the warmth of the shower. A similar encounter from when Sam had took on the task of helping him bathe. Those were simpler times. But no. Definitely not going to think of that when on the phone with a woman he considered his sister.

“Yes, HYDRA being the literal cockroaches of terrorist groups. Yeah, I got that part.,” Natasha said, and from her end of the phone came the sound of a straw sucking up the ending dregs of a drink. Sam knew she was having something strong. “You know The Winter Soldier is coming for you if he's not there already. And assuming that you are talking to me now, that he is and he hasn't killed you. So from what I can tell, Tony was being completely honest for once.”

Sam felt like he was being scolded but he knew Natasha's word came from a place of love. He clutches his phone tight. He knew she was in his corner. And that was comforting given what happened yesterday night with Cap and Tony both.

“Yeah, he's here. But...something's off about him. He's actually behaving as Barnes would. Talkin' like him too. But before, when we were with Tony and Steve at Steve's apartment he came to us as someone else. Something like The Winter Soldier but I can't be sure. And then suddenly he's a kid. His mind seems to be all over the place. I had some ideas of what to do but...I never told Cap. He...,” Sam trailed off, closing his eyes tight from the onslaught of Cap's disgusting words. “Did Tony tell you---”

“Yeah, Tony told me _everything_.,” Natasha said quietly, and Sam can feel the beginning of her anger even through the phone. “I'm going to call Steve right after.”

Sam can't help but feel a little glad that Steve would get his ' _just desserts_ '. But he had a feeling that Natasha could be the only one to bridge the gap between him and Cap. But before all else she had to help him complete his idea in trying to help Bucky. “Well, before that, can you...you're not going to like it, but  only you can do it.”  
Natasha was always quick on the up-take. “You want me to call _him_ , don't you?”

Sam could feel his head start to bead sweat at her cold tone. And simultaneously he heard the water in the bathroom shut off. He had to hurry this conversation along. “Nat, you're the only one who can reach him...to find him. He knows this stuff. He can help us. He doesn't have to fight the good fight this time. Just help us heal Barnes.”

Natasha is quiet on the other line, just her steady breathing hovering in Sam's ear. He knew she was battling between feelings and duty. Sam wished he didn't feel like he was forcing her to do this, but it had to be done. Bucky's problems were just more than any of them could handle right now, including HYDRA's supposed resurgence. “Please.,” Sam added, but he knew he didn't have to.

“I'll see what I can do.,” Natasha said, her voice dipping low now, “Just be careful Sam.”

“Always, Nat. You too.” Sam smiled, hoping she could hear it in his voice. “I'll see you soon.”

Just as he ended the call with a press of his thumb, Bucky exited the bathroom. The most surprising thing was seeing his face underneath that full beard. There are minor cuts on his face, either from the tiny, pink disposable razor Sam's mother stockpiled or from his earlier fight with Cap and Tony. Sam wasn't going to ask but he did enjoy the nice sprinkling of stubble along the other man's jawline. And from there, of course, Sam couldn't stop looking.

Bucky's chest is well defined just like the rest of him, all the way down. He has sparse hairs along his nipples and breastbone, and Sam just tried not to enjoy the thought of laving at them with his tongue. Their small and tanned, and stick up like little buds against the coolness of the air that flowed where they stood. He looked dough soft, all smooth and dry from his shower except the scraggle of hair hanging limp and wet around his face. The band-aids he applied earlier were still on for the most part. But from what Sam could tell, the healing factor was already set in motion. The tiny cuts along the man's face were now looked to be thin red scratches.

Bucky didn't shy away from Sam's stare but neither did he seemed intrigued by him. “I need some clothes.,” was all the man said, tightening the large pink towel wrapped along his waist.

Sam gathered his bearings and gestured to his childhood bedroom, “Sure, man,” he said. “Got some things in the dresser, top drawer for socks and...underwear, then down for everything else.”

This man, from what Bucky could tell, was acting like a complete dumbbell. But Bucky could understand why. It's not an everyday thing where your cock is in a stranger's fist without knowing how it got there in the first place. Bucky still felt like he was dreaming. Something was off. And it wasn't about that. It was everything. Even the time felt different. He looked at the dates on the womens' magazines stuck in a basket on the back of the toilet. He could've fell out at the things he read there.

But Steve went from a little guy and into a big guy, so nothing ever would seem impossible now. So, he time traveled. Bucky knew this had to be one of Howard Stark's messes. Maybe a result in all that tinkering with the shit that powered those HYDRA weapons. Yeah, that's it. He fell off a train and into a wormhole ripped in time by Stark. Possibly a good thing seeing as he wasn't dead from the fall.

The metal arm, though, that was a different story. He didn't know how anyone could explain that to him. The thing was massive and smelled like a blown motor. Bucky didn't have the patience to even begin to understand how it was fused into his shoulder. Some whack-job doctor did a number on him. But at least the thing didn't hurt right now but it was damn heavy. His balance was off but he somehow felt strong enough still to carry the weight. He made a mental note to kick Stark's ass about this entire situation. But first he had to get dressed.

He went over to the dresser to pull out some clothes, tossing aside thing he didn't like. The t-shirt that finally caught his eye had a big green alien looking thing on it. Bucky didn't know what the hell it was but it looked cool. Better than the old monster pictures he and Steve watched when they were younger. He also ended up pulling out some black and blue striped underwear that seemed like it be okay for a girl to wear.

Bucky was just curious enough to read the inside tag. ' _Ergonomic fit_ '. And as he slid them on over his legs and up, he could see the appeal of them. The briefs were soft and stretchy, the fabric entirely breathable. The pouch for his junk was cradling him quite nice, and even had some room to fill.

Nope.

Bucky tried hard not to think of the other man's dick nestled inside these very underwear. Bucky couldn't give in to the stereotype that black men had nice sized pricks. He's been to Harlem speakeasies with Steve before.

Steve went for the music whereas Bucky was there for something else, sometimes leaving his friend in the club while he makes it with a guy in the alley behind it. There had been more than a few lackluster encounters leaving a bad taste in his mouth, quite literally. But when he'd get in on the right guy, though, it was absolute fireworks.

It wasn't just black men in those kinds of clubs though, it was a cornucopia of young men wanting to be unburdened by whatever thing holding them back from being themselves. The black dance halls had some kind of liberation for all people. The spirit of music was genuine, living freedom. It held all the passion and astute grandeur he was looking for, whereas most of the places he'd been before were still trying to capture that.

You didn't have to worry about being caught pants down with your prick up some guy's asshole, not like the halls down in Greenwich Village. The doorman didn't even look twice at him and Steve when he let them inside the first time. 

It was a test for Bucky, in a sense of how far was he willing to indulge his particular interest in dick, craving something all those sweet dames he bedded couldn't really give him. And he wanted Steve to see that there were more people in the world willing to accept who he was and not always see him in the guise of just a ' _little guy_ '.

Bucky wanted Steve to know how much more other people could give him; where Steve wasn't just waiting for him to wise up and be solely be with him. Bucky didn't want that. He didn't think he ever had a single feeling for Steve that went beyond brotherhood. Steve was that guy Bucky knew he would always be looking out for. Steve may have known it then, but he really was all the family Bucky had left. Telling Steve that his family died in some kind of car accident was much easier to say than them all getting disowned by their alcoholic mother and tossed wayside to the orphanage. 

Much easier still when he wasn't sure where to even begin searching for his family once he came of age. And now, with him being in this timeline, it seemed like a graveyard was going to be the best place to look.

He knew that's where he should be.

Everything about the other man's room just reminded Bucky of every single person he's lost. He wasn’t an idiot. He could do the math concerning the difference in time. The guys must be ancient now. Dead or dying. The thought was morbid but honest.

He pulled on the borrowed clothes slowly, starting with the pants, keeping gaze with the Captain America posters and tiny Howling Commandos figurines placed about the room. Bucky felt the prickling of tears stinging the backs of his eyes when focusing on a child's lunch box, worn and scraped on the edges, but the faceplate of it still had the regular line up of him and Steve with the other guys. He hoped the guys knew they became childhood heroes.

Bucky nearly crumbled from the emotion of it and moved to sit on the bed. He can feel the tightening of his skin, the sweat beading along his forehead. He clenched up his right hand into a tight fist and released it, doing it several more times until he lost count. He can't stop it from shaking. And to his left is the seared on metal arm decorated with a burnt red star and the sight of it makes him nauseous. He closed his eyes in effort to remember what happened after the fall. Trying to quell the pain that followed in his head. What was this hunk of metal attached to him? Why the cuts and bruises stop hurting so fast? How they got there in the first place?

The tears come anyway, and he was breaking down now. More mentally than he was feeling physically. But still, he can’t even move the metal arm to put on the rest of the shirt.

He felt itchy all over. The clothes dragged along his skin, sticking and catching along the fine hairs of his body. The material felt wrong. Too soft, smelt too clean. He pulled at them in a flurry. Kicking the pants off around his legs and tossing the shirt with them in a pile. He sat there in the underwear, not even bothering with them.

It's not right, though.

He needed the comfort of his uniform, the snug and starchy feel of it. He needed to be in _his_ own time; drinking with the boys and Steve. Dancing with all the girls. Wander off with a couple of other guys for a round of suck jobs. That was a normal day for him. _Normal_ , being the key word. But he just sat there, hyperventilating, only clothed in some other man’s underwear. 

The timing’s a bitch and he flirts with the idea of jumping out of the window next to him. There’s no way he’s gotten this far in time without something being so very wrong. Something so terrible that he wouldn’t be able to take knowing about it. 

But he still has that stubbornness the nuns had tried to paddle out of him. And maybe that was a well-off thing because he hasn’t moved an inch towards the sound of honking cars and chipper as shit birds. Hell, he doesn't even think the fall from the window would kill him. So, he doesn’t even bother moving at all, not even when the other man came back to the room, the door making a loud creak in the breaks between his breathing.

Bucky can't be bothered to move. He stared up at the ceiling, vaguely sure of the man actually touching him, trying to get him up. The man's hands are so big, thick fingers down to the knuckles of his fists. They dig into the meat of him, and Bucky just wanted to love that feeling. But he can't move or speak. The feeling in his entire body is numbing down, from the top of his head to the beginning of his toes. He only felt a slight brush across the grooves of his brain. It was a fleeting strange sensation. An echo of a voice is calling him distantly. A child's voice. Telling him to not go back. 

Back where? Bucky didn't know where from here or there. The tears force an ache from his chest, and soon pain starts to rush in all at once. Bucky can hear himself screaming and his body is suddenly thrashing from it. The metal arm is an anchor, not letting him escape the other man's hands. Flashes of pictures in his mind well up with bloody terror. 

He can see himself killing people...killing children with his bare hands. Gunfire exploded in his ears. He can hear another voice chortling in a mocking laugh, giving him praise as he puts rounds of bullets into bodies fleeing. Image after image imprinted into his mind. He can hear himself crying and the low rumble of the other man speaking to him.

Sam couldn't be surprised in seeing Bucky react this way. The old world manliness of him dwindled away and the shock sets in. This post-tramatic stress episode was one of many Sam has seen. One of many Sam had had himself. He tightened his grip on Bucky, tucking his face in the man's wild hair, whispering close to his ear.

“Hey, man, I know...I know,” Sam said, rocking Bucky back and forth on the bed. Tears of his own formed in his eyes as he watched the man struggle with his memories. 

“You can come back now. You get back here to me, okay? We can take this ride together, man. Let's do it together. Please...,” Sam's words trail away, his hand moving away from the modded shoulder of Bucky's metal arm and into his long dark hair. Sam gently scratched at his scalp in smallish circles.

Bucky stiffened but found himself careening back into the touch exposing his throat. The side of his head lolled against the other man's shoulder as he was cradle in those strong arms. 

Sam pulled Bucky closer as he felt the man in the beginnings of coming back to himself. But Bucky began rubbing his cheek and nose along his shoulder, breathing in the day old scent from his armpit. He would have been embarrassed but with the way Bucky had his eyes closed, biting the corner of his bottom lip to keep from crying aloud, Sam wasn't too bothered by it. Bucky was seeping any amount of nurturing Sam had to offer.  
And Sam had no issue with that. He made a promise to himself and a silent one to Bucky that he would be there for him no matter what. You don't spend years searching for someone and not catch feelings.

Sam let Bucky silently cry as the man slowly brought himself back from his bout of shock. Sam didn't force him to move into a more comfortable position. The strain in of holding the other man in his arms made his back and shoulders tense.

Bucky didn't want to break whatever spell the man was weaving for him. The steady, strong heart beat of this stranger was a calming bass line for the torment of being stuck in a time far from his own reality. He couldn't speak of things he had seen. Tiny flashes of blurry images far away began burning themselves in his mind. Futuristic things he could only imagine were born of Howard Stark's many patents. How could he really know? He was afraid to ask the man holding him, in fear of what the truth was. But why was he afraid? He knew somehow that remembering things would be bad. It would hurt. It always hurt. Then he was nothing again. 

' _A blank slate._ '

Bucky shivered as the words echoed through his mind. He curled up tightly against the other man, trying to shield himself away from that voice. He knew who it belonged to but how could he really know if he never truly met the guy. Bucky needed answers, even if the truth could hurt him more than now. He knew there would be no going back.

Sam nuzzled Bucky's hair once more, loving how soft it was. He could feel how tense the man was before, but now Bucky was slowly unwinding like a loose thread with a satisfying pull. “That's it, man. You're doing good. You can work through this. It'll be hard but you won't be alone.” Sam said, daring to kiss the top of the man's head. “Never again.”

The sincerity in the stranger's voice was enough to make Bucky tremble. His acceptance of the man was far different than when he first came face to face with him. And it had to be only a hour or more since then. But Bucky was a people person through and through. He could just about make anyone like him, and yet, with this man he didn't even have to try. _God_ , Bucky wanted to kiss him right now. But first, “Hey, pal, what's your name?”

Sam met Bucky's eyes in a tender stare, a bittersweet repeat record of what happened between them when Bucky first appeared with a child hidden in those blue eyes. “I'm Sam Wilson.,” he said. “A friend.”

Bucky let a wavering smile break across his face which was just enough to make Sam's heart flutter. Bucky must of heard it all the same because he grinned wider now.

Sam wanted to kiss him to wipe that dopey smile from his extraordinarily handsome face. But then they both startled at the sound of the front door being forced opened downstairs. And Sam quickly dislodged himself from Bucky. No. He wasn't about to let HYDRA take Bucky again. Not without a fight. 

But only one pair of footsteps could be heard. “Sam?! Are you here?!”

Sam didn't relax. He couldn't. He rather it be HYDRA—anybody really--than Steve's voice carrying up the stairs.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Asset.

His mother is holding him. 

A sweet, mellow embrace that only a mother could give. She smiles at him when he looks up into her dark brown eyes. 

“Your father would be so proud of you. All grown up to be a great man. A hero.” She coos at him like he's a little boy. He isn't. But he loves the sound of her voice all the same.

“You've had quite the journey.,” she continues, and gives a trailing run through his hair with a soft, careful hand. “But you have still a long way to go. We need someone like you, Sergeant Barnes.”

He thinks she's being playful as she lays him down onto a cold metal table, using his army title like that. The cold seeps through his uniform clothes and out when she takes scissors to cut them away. He should feel bashful, watching her eyes linger up and down his naked body, but he doesn't, not even when she strokes at his chest, grazing over his nipples.

It's not right. The not feeling anything. He can't put out a single word, to let her know she can stop. To let her know that he knows she loves him. He breathes in deep, bordering on the beginnings of agitation with a dark mix of nervousness. 

“There will be no interruptions this time.,” her smile brightens, bringing her hand down and running it along his ribs. He watches her lips move as she counts them silently.

She prods at him again, cataloging every detail. She marks it down onto a notepad full of thick white paper. He never seen the thing in her hands but it's just suddenly there. Her hand rushes against the contours of his body, getting much to close to his privates. 

He tries to squirm away from her touch but he can't get move fast enough. He is strapped to the table and he chest heaves up and down in tantrum as if he cant get enough air in his lungs. He feels light headed now, a bout of nausea hits his stomach. 

She takes him in her hand, pulling back the foreskin from the head. 

“Please, momma, don't...,” he feels ill. Beads of sweat pool along his hair line. It's a devious violation. It's enough to make him spit and choke on the launch of bile from his stomach to his throat and out. A foreign hand quickly grabs the side of his head and forces it so his cheek is a hair's breath away from the cold slab of table beneath him. The hand keeps his airways open.

She forces him into hardness and measures the length of him with her fingers. And when she lets him go she scratches something else in the note pad. His erection flags when she continues her exploration of his body. “Oh, Sergeant Barnes, the procedure has already started.”

Her breath graces his face and it's twinged with mint and mustard. It's sharp and disgusting, and when he looks at her there is no more sweet face smiles. No rosy cheeks and long, demure eyelashes hooded over a matronly gaze. She is replaced by a bespectacled hobbit of a man with a sick smile and devilish, mischievous eyes.

The sharp cut into whatever's left of his left arm is searing. And he does cry himself hoarse, passing out only long enough for the pain to wake him once again. It is endless. 

He goes into shock, but he doesn't know that. He only tasted the lake of foaming spit and the pull of his eyes rolling into the back of head. They, the foreign doctors, do nothing but tighten his restraints. And when he finally wakes and the pain is just a fresh memory, he sees the end result.

The difference between flesh and metal is evident.

“You are to be the new fist of HYDRA.,” he hears the mole man say. “Put him on ice.,”

In the chamber he is placed. No amount of comfort could make it not feel like a coffin. The heavy metal door is shut and he brings up a hand to test its strength. It is locked in place and he knows there is no escape for him now. It chill of air blasts through the vents of his cell. He closes his eyes, wanting to fall into dreams that would render this nightmare into a children's horror story. But he can't. He is suspended forever in between realms of wakefulness and sleep. Neither is comforting.

 

Decades past, but time is irrelevant to him. The first dozen wipes empties all thought from him. It's the pain that breaks him from the inside. They are ruthless. 

When the man makes his first appearance, it is after the moment when his brains are so scrambled that he can't see straight. Sometimes he vomits whatever gruel the put in him during his missions that they don't get to excavate from him when he is rushed into Cryo. So far they have got the formula right, he doesn't do that anymore.

But there's this man. His face is charming and determined. He makes the scientists leave the room. They advise against it, unsure of what he might do to a stranger. But this man is bold. He dispels their qualms with single raised hand. They cower into silence and ultimately rush out the door.

The man bends down on one knee. He is smiling at him. It's confusing. “I'm Alexander Pierce, and I will be taking command of you from now on.”

He stares at the man for a long moment before training kicks in and he looks down at the man's shoes. Pierce only hums at him before standing up again. 

Only the sound of a hand rusting in a pocket cracks the silence in the room. The crinkle of wrapping is a jarring scratch to his ears. His brain can't even process what it could be from. But then Pierce presents a single red piece of candy in the palm of his hand, and with the other he tilts his head up, forcing him to meet his eyes.

His gaze is steady on Pierce before it counters to the candy. His mouth waters at the possible taste of it.  
“Ah, son, it's no surprise that they treated you like shit before. But you are with me now. I want everything to go smoothly as possible. I want us to succeed in our plans for this world. It's up to us to save it. I know you will do the right thing. All I need is your compliance. You're devotion to HY—to me.”

He stares at the candy then back to Pierce. He nods only once.

Pierce smiles at him and he feels an old pull that he is supposed to like it. The man uses his thumb to gently part his lips. The touch is so intimate and so kind that it scares him a little. And then Pierce is setting the candy into his mouth, deep enough so that he can taste the salt of the man's fingers.

“Good, son.,” is all Pierce says, daring to bring a touch to the ends of his hair. “Good.”

 

 

Rumlow takes The Asset's gear off, getting him down to nothing. The Asset isn't coddled with comfort so underwear wasn't wasted on it. It was a flesh and blood tool. No more, no less. But that doesn't mean he and his team couldn't have fun with the thing. Pierce even said that anything had to be done to keep The Asset in line. And now, punishment was due.

It took Rollins twice to command The Asset to kill a rising dictator's kid. No witnesses meant no witnesses. The Asset showing emotion was riveting. Rumlow never had been in the presence of a non-compliant Asset. But Rollins said the thing cried as it snapped the kid's neck. Clean up made it look like a house fire. Hot enough to char a child's brittle bones.

The Asset stands in the middle of the room, bearing all of itself by Rumlow's hand. 

Rumlow put a heavy hand on its shoulder and forced it down to its knees. “Gotta hand it to ya,” he begins undoing his own pants, rubbing the outline of his cock through his shorts. 

“You fucked this one up. You haven't been out long enough for another wipe. Guess the docs don't want to make you some fucking drooling shit pile. You're useless to us then. Prolly would take you out quick if they had it their way. But me, nah, I'd do you real slow. Make you feel it. Just like now.” He grips The Asset's mangle hair. There is still blood matted in it from where it disemboweled the dictator's wife. Rumlow didn't care though. He preferred it to be dirty. Gave The Asset some kind of ambiance.

“God, Rumlow, you gonna talk the shit to death as punishment,” came one of his men. “Some of us wanna be home for dinner.”

Rumlow can only smile down at The Asset where it was obediently staring a hole into the floor. He forced it to look up at him by the pull of its hair. 

“Dinner, huh...,” he says as a thought forms slowly, languishing in the deviousness of it. “Whattaya say, puppy, you want your dinner too?, “ he teases it. “Say you want it.”

It strains its neck, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as it swallows the words before they come back up, “I want it.”

There's a murmur of approval from around the room. His guys were hungry. The Asset just happens to be the best tool. Expert assassin and cocksucker in one. Rumlow had his own speculations on what this thing used to be. When it was human. He only just had a glimpse of its top secret file and that was only because Pierce was too lazy to file his own paperwork. But he appreciates the man. Trusting in him to use The Asset as he sees fit. Soon he would be the one to own it. Pierce shares his toys apparently.

There was no more Bucky Barnes. This thing that was a man nearly half a century ago was just that. An ' _it_ '. A ' _thing_ '. No less useful than a fork and a knife. Used to tear and cut into into people and entire governments. Shaping the century as Pierce has said often enough that it embeds into Rumlow's brain. Just as the former Bucky Barnes has. He could imagine the man having to use his body to put food in his belly. Turning tricks for a nickle and dime slice of pie. It's comical. The man was twenty-nine when he officially died on that mountain. Only taking a week or so to come back to life at the expert hands of HYDRA's top scientists.

“Get your hands behind your back, puppy.,” Brock smears his thumb along its bitter red lips. The fucking thing looked obscene. Porno ready. He loved it. This isn't anything new. His team gets both jobs of rewarding The Asset and punishing him. His team is stockpiled with degenerate sadists. But he knows he is the worse one. 

He fucks into The Asset every time they are on a two-man mission. Kill after kill got Rumlow horny as fuck. A job well done was due for reward. It just happened to be The Asset for him. 

No, he wasn't a fag. He only got off on the power he had over the thing. But its old time good looks didn't hurt either.

Bucky Barnes must've probably had guys lined up around corner.

“Open your mouth.,” he commands, and the order registers lightning quick, with its pink tongue sticks out just a little bit over perfect white teeth. 

The Asset accepts Rumlow's cock with no hesitation, gracing the underside with his tongue. He watches the commander grin madly. He knows this dance. Rumlow always wanted him to look into his eyes as he did this. The other men were less cavalier with him but under Rumlow's orders they were supposed to be just as brutal. 

They didn't care. This was strictly punishment. The Asset knew that they wouldn't be careful with him. They never were but this time was different. There's more men than usual.

He knows that he is to service every single one and he does. 

He wouldn't get to eat today. The mens' release would be his only meal. He knows that they will take him anally. Ripping at his insides with each thrust. He would bleed and they would come and he would slurp that up too. 

The shallow cuts they carve into his back be by their hands too. Lemon and salt would burn them open so they would scar. They would kick him in his privates over and over and he would bleed there too from the tread of their combat boots, pinching and flicking his torn skin. They never salt him there. Pierce wants him to be perfect there. He takes him sometimes too. But not with the Strike team. Pierce wants him all to himself. The Asset doesn't mind. He has no mind to give.

But the director was more deviant in his proclivities with The Asset's body. Pierce would insert the objects inside him. Sometimes oblong or round foods and make him hold it. Balls and gallons of water were involved also. Urethral stimulation would follow.

But being forced to eat and drink his own waste was the worst of it. An exercise in order to make him train his body not to go as needed. It wasn't always an option but it did play a part in Pierce's regimen for him. They wanted control of everything thing he had. His entire mind and biology. It was all theirs.

Yet Rumlow was somewhat tame in comparison. He would smile and put a leash and muzzle on him, wagging his finger, calling him ' _bad puppy_ ' and parade him around a circle among the men where they would hawk spit at him, kicking him down and piss on him.

And then, when they all leave, Pierce would come in after with two med staff and one scientist trailing behind him. 

“We don't like to give second chances,” he would always say. “But it's not your fault. You're only but a tool. A machine that has broken down and you needed to be corrected.”

The Asset says nothing. Always nothing. He knows Pierce prefers that.

And he would heal. 

They wouldn't wipe him after a punishment. They believed that the thought of it would benefit him in his next mission, an incentive for him not to compromise it. 

But they needn't bother. He always remembered the pain.

There were no more tears for his victims.

 

 

 

_The Asset stares down at the boy, his knife still raised high in his tightly balled fist._

_The Asset feels his hand shaking—his hand never shakes—but it's the glint in the boy's sweet blue eyes. The Asset doesn't lower his weapon as the child speaks, but he knows this is a battle he is soon to lose._

_'You know it now.,' Jimmy's voice is soft, and he is smiling sweetly at him. 'We had you running in circles like a mouse on a wheel.'_

_The Asset doesn't like it, he knows what it means._

_“You know Bucky is in the other world. The real one. I'm surprise that you could even break through the control of The Voice. You and Wilson was not planned but it helped now that we analyzed the meaning behind it. Your defection will force Barnes to rid himself of you, with the help of his comrades. They strive for predictability whereas you are the clear opposite.” Jimmy nearly giggles, putting his hand over his mouth to quiet it._

_“ Even if Bucky can't remember what goes on inside his head, he knows that there will be help for him on the outside. And whatever it takes, even if you push him back here, I will keep reminding him of what he needs to do. Now that he knows, he will be steps ahead of you. You won't be able to stop him.”_

_The boy gives The Asset a cold look. “You won't be able to stop me either.,”he says. “How long do you think you have in this realm? He, The Voice, knew you would end up defecting. This is why I'm here.”_

_The Asset's body stiffens to hold back the trembling of fear. He doesn't want to hear this._

_Jimmy's smile turns slightly cruel, “Yes. That's the look. You knew something was up as soon as you saw me the first time with Bucky, didn't you?”_

_“You tried so hard to destroy me like you did him. But you were too dense to find me beyond the memory doors. I had to let Bucky regain some sort of control when you started doing acting out on your own.,” The boy shakes his head in disappointment._

_“I seemed to have underestimated how powerful the human mind truly is, but then again, how beautiful it is when you have the power to own it. Just like I own Bucky now.,” He continues mocking The Asset._

_“You are damaged goods. Barnes will destroy those Avengers from the inside. Using you as a fear tactic to force him back into control of his own body was brilliant. And like the good dog you are you performed well and didn't even know you were doing my dirty work asides from the meager commands I gave you before. And when Barnes gets to your new friend Wilson, I will let him save him for last. Just so you can watch your own hands tear into his flesh.”_

_The Asset's own mind makes a break in Jimmy's ramblings as he thinks of Sam's face all bloody and marred. It puts an ache in his chest he hadn't felt in decades of time. He wonders if the Bucky could feel it in the real world. What would he think it meant?_

_The Asset knows Bucky is at the helm of his own body now. And as disconcerting as that was, he couldn't let it stop him from trying destroy the boy and ultimately The Voice. He knew he could regain control soon, either by force or through Bucky losing consciousness from fighting or sleep, unless Jimmy got there first. There were just too many memory doors the boy had access to, places where The Asset knew he couldn't follow. Those memories made him stronger, thus giving Bucky strength. But Bucky had no idea the web of lies Jimmy had spun him. How he said he would help the man but only weaving him into a trap along with The Avengers._

_The Asset didn't know what he could do now. Jimmy would always be watching. _The Voice_ would always be watching._

_The manipulation at the sound of The Voice was also concerning. How easy it was for The Asset to fall back into old habits of being a mindless tool. It was a mistake listening to The Voice. It was so easy to do as he was told by it and the brute commands by his handlers reinforced only The Voice's orders, no, they were Pierce's orders. However, there _would_ be tiny little spaces of time in between his missions where his mindlessness would birth a moment of clarity._

_Usually these moments happened when he was alone and not being used. He would think about the taste of certain foods he knew Bucky liked. Steve, when The Asset hadn't relearned his name, would draw portraits of Bucky. He would catch onto the old scent of a girl's perfume and hear her laughter. Those moments lingered but then would be washed away by blood._

_And now, staring into Jimmy's mad eyes, glazed over with insanity. The Voice's poisonous words spewing from his small mouth. “HYDRA is the only way for all of us. For the entire world. And Sergeant Barnes is to be our new leader. The Voice owns you, me, and him. No one can stop it. It's too la--,” he gurgles through the blood as The Asset finally brings his knife down through the boy's thin white neck. It cuts through like the tear of proliferated paper._

_The boy crumples to the floor, the black fog swirling tendrils around his small body. He has the ghost of a smile on his face as blood pools around his head in a dark halo._

_The Asset knew he should keep going, turn the boy's body into mush. Knowing it would be harder for him to respawn. It was taxing on Bucky's mind. But what was the point now. The Voice and the boy were the same, working in devious harmony against him. And Bucky was none the wiser; the man didn't know he was acting as a double agent for them. Same old HYDRA formula. How it could work every single time made The Asset wonder how anyone couldn't see through it. He just hope The Avengers wouldn't fall for it a second time._

_The Asset knew he needed to be on the outside, there was only one thing he cared for. He had to get back there somehow. Back to Sam._

_The Asset knew that he couldn't rid himself of his two counterparts alone, that would be to completely destroy himself. He was sure 'The Voice' knew that too. So he knew he would have to force Bucky to remember this world, somehow tell him that The Voice exists and Jimmy is a liar._

_He knew of one way that would possibly work but he couldn't help but be afraid. He turned to look beyond the black smoke to a door far, far way from the other memory doors._

_This door was his own. The only one he had over many littering Bucky's mind. This was the door of both their torment. The beginning of Bucky's death and the end of The Asset's birth._

_The red door with a black star._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter isn't too confusing. lemme know in the comments what ya think.


End file.
